


Until the Night is Over

by hecckyeah



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Partners to Lovers, Sort of follows MCU but not really, Young SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecckyeah/pseuds/hecckyeah
Summary: Sixteen months.Sixteen agonizing, emotional months Sousa had spent kicking himself, searching every single radio wave he could find, almost giving up more times than he could count. And that seed of doubt she’d unknowingly planted in his mind . . . that maybe not everyone was who they seemed.She’d sent him on a wild goose chase, unknowingly, in more ways than one..Or: Daniel Sousa finally gets the go-ahead to bring his team into the field, and it's the best two years of his life. But when Daisy -- his partner and best friend -- goes mysteriously missing, it sets off a domino effect of events that could change their lives, and the future of SHIELD, forever.(Dousy modern day AU!)
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 124
Kudos: 228





	1. i feel the weather change

_August 11 th, 2019_

.

.

.

Daisy Johnson clutched her radio in a shaking, sweaty hand. Around her, the wind whipped violently, trying to tug her away from her fate. _Just one more mile,_ she reminded herself over and over again. She could hear screaming in the distance, and she cursed her weak, bruised body for how agonizingly slow it was moving.

He had to be close.

Sand found its way down into her boots, up to scratch her knees, and it circled her neck like a vise. Her eyes burned.

The air seemed to split suddenly around her. She threw herself to the ground, burying her head in her arms. Gunshots tore the sand dunes apart. Rocks flew.

Daisy curled herself up as tight as she could.

Shouting echoed around the entire valley, and when the gunshots let up for a few seconds, she strained to triangulate the sound. It was close.

Scrambling to her feet, she pressed the button on her radio. “I have Daniel’s twenty. This is Agent Johnson. I repeat, I have his twenty.”

The sand in her boots felt like tiny spears. Dust settled into her mouth and seemed to pierce her lungs. She couldn’t see the path, but she pressed on, hurtling over rocks and sand with a vigor she hadn’t felt since her first day in the field. Her legs numbly hurled themselves forward, and her arms shook with pent-up rage.

Sounds of struggling finally became clearer and clearer, and with a shocking suddenness, Daisy’s hair stayed still. The wind gave up. Her breath caught in her mouth. She almost stumbled to her knees, but sheer force of will kept her upright . . . just in time to see Daniel double over, surrounded by three men, teetering dangerously close to a steep cliff.

The sound Sousa made shook Daisy to her core.

With one last burst of speed, she hurled herself toward the group of men.

Shrieking, “ _No!”_ she tackled the nearest thug. They went down in a cloud of dust, Daisy’s fists meeting his jaw over and over . . . Even after his eyes closed and her fist met no resistance.

A pair of hands gripped her upper arms, and someone clutched her eyes. She screamed and fought and clawed, but they were too strong.

Too strong . . . She was too weak to save Daniel . . . She was too weak to get there in time, and now . . . now . . . He was dead.

She caught a glimpse of open eyes, stark red sand, a twisted leg. Her ears stopped hearing things. Her forehead was numb. All she knew was to scream and to scream and that he was dead.

Backup wasn’t coming. She was alone.

She was alone, and he was dead. And it was her fault.

.

.

.

_July 23 rd, 2014_

_._

Daniel Sousa had seen some strange things in his life.

After two tours in Iraq, he had seen his fair share of combat. He had seen superstition running rampage in his barracks. He had seen the inside of a field hospital. He had seen soldiers go mentally insane. And after he returned home, the weirdness just kept coming.

His first year out of active service, he was hired by none other than Phillip Coulson to head up all combat training for a brand new under-the-radar organization.

“Never heard of SHIELD,” Daniel had admitted.

Coulson rested his arms on the table. “That’s because it barely exists yet. We’re joining with the SSR as a single organization. SHIELD will focus on field work, large scale weapons and , and the SSR can keep supporting us through science and technology.”

“What’s the purpose? Wouldn’t the military be enough to keep America safe?” Daniel glanced up from the thick folder.

“SHIELD is more of a . . .” Coulson wrinkled his eyebrows, “. . . _supernatural_ protection force. We aim not just for America, but to keep the whole world safe. Think of it as the FBI or CIA, with really big weapons. This world is getting smaller, Mr. Sousa. We don’t know what types of threats are waiting, from space, from underground, even from different worlds. We need you to help us prepare for any world-wide, nation-wide, or even city-wide catastrophe that could appear.”

“By _catastrophe,_ you mean . . . like what happened in New York?”

Coulson nodded. “Exactly like that.”

He browsed through the files for a few minutes. “Okay.” Daniel looked up. “Let’s do it.”

They shook hands, and Sousa’s life was forever changed. 

.

He was shipped out to the base on Area 51 almost immediately, complete with a small troop of about fifty. Four scientists joined him, as well as two current SSR agents.

For a long time, his life was almost perfect. He trained his squad day in and day out, going for twenty-mile runs as often as time would allow, teaching them the basics of gun handling, hand-to-hand combat, emergency procedures, and everything else under the sun.

As was natural for Area 51, he heard some strange stories. Aliens, Martians, slithering snake creatures that measured a hundred feet, masked men that shot lasers out of their eyes . . . he had heard it all. At least one recruit usually went insane during one of their runs and claimed to have been haunted. But it was nothing that a little cold water in the face and a boxing session in the base couldn’t fix.

Sousa respected his team, and they respected him. They went from calling him “Chief” with formality, to it sounding more like a term of endearment. He knew all of their names, ages, backgrounds, favorite foods, and he had had more than one heart-to-heart with all of them at some point.

Most of them were at least ten years younger than himself, and Daniel felt a sort of paternal duty to them, to see to their wellbeing. So even though they were stuck underground for the majority of the three-year training program, they felt like a family. A healthy, strong, well-oiled machine of a family.

But a not-unwelcome wrench was thrown into his plans one day.

It was the middle of the hottest summer they had seen in a long time. He had run into road block after emergency after hiccup. He was almost done with the day—almost ready to turn in for the night . . . when another thing threw him off.

And Sousa never expected to be so thrown off by just one person.

.

“Who the hell are you?”

The woman didn’t look up from the desk. Her eyebrows raised slightly, and she brought a gloved hand to her glasses. “Who I am is on a need-to-know basis.”

He did not have time for this. His bad foot had been acting up all day, he had had to walk around with that god-forsaken cane, and half his team had contracted some type of flu simultaneously. Their training exercises were delayed, and his meeting and progress demonstration with Coulson would have to be rescheduled again.

“I need to know,” he said, frustration and impatience rising off of him like the heat waves outside.

The woman pasted a smile onto her face and finally glanced up. “No, you don’t, because I don’t exist, and we never met.” She gestured toward him. “Now, will you shut the door please?”

That didn’t answer his question, nor did it give him a clue as to why she was nonchalantly sitting in the office of a high-ranking SHIELD official.

“Not until you produce some credentials,” he pressed.

Sighing, the woman stood up. “Coulson had said you were a little more welcoming to visitors.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not when they’re sitting in my personal office and don’t identify themselves.”

“Fair,” she said, and handed him a card.

It read, _Agent Daisy Johnson – Level Six_ – _SHIELD, Washington, D.C. Consultant for Field Operations_ **.**

Daniel relaxed and let out a breath. He smiled. “Agent Johnson.”

She returned the grin. “Mr. Sousa. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

.

.

.

_August 11 th, 2017_

.

“Attention, cadets.”

The room echoed with the sound of sixty boots stomping the floor at the same time.

Daisy Johnson strolled around the group, each new recruit looking more and more uncomfortable the longer she paced.

“You have been selected,” she finally said, “to be a part of SHIELD’s newest field training program. It will not be easy. It will break you. It will make you want to crawl into a hole and never—”

“At ease,” Sousa interrupted, as the door behind him shut with a _clang_.

Daisy spun on her heel to face him.

He smirked. “Stop scaring the poor recruits, please.”

Daniel clasped his hands behind his back, feet spread a comfortable distance apart. “Here’s the deal: You will not be broken,” he addressed the thirty nervous cadets. “You will be built from the ground up. We know you have skills, that is why you were selected. We will work to hone those skills. We have a fine-tuned training program, which turns you all into a team. By the end of three years, you should be working, talking, and fighting like a team. And as soon as we have the go-ahead from the Director to begin field work, you will have to be a team.”

His eyes darted between the rookies. Some looked terrified, some had stone-cold demeanors that he stared down. “Agent Johnson here will try to push you beyond your limits, but I am here to help you find those limits. Agent Johnson will be in charge of all hand-to-hand combat training, so you have my permission stay a healthy distance away if you don’t want to have your teeth knocked out.”

A nervous chuckle rippled through the group.

“All you need to know,” he continued, “is that we expect your very best. You all have strengths and weaknesses, but we need you to harness them both. We want you to be the best agents of SHIELD that you can be. Now . . .” he checked his watch, “. . . I believe it’s time for lunch. Dismissed.”

.

“They really respect you, you know” Daisy said. She jogged a couple steps to keep up with his long strides, then slowed again. “You could really make this base into something great. I think—”

“I’m requesting a new assignment.”

Daisy stopped. A light flickered in the hallway.

“Sorry, what?”

Sousa beckoned her into the office with him. The door clicked shut, and he breathed a sigh. “Don’t get me wrong: I love what I do, and I love the people I train. But Davis is more than ready to take over, and to be honest with you . . . it’s hard to train people for the field when I know I won’t be out there myself. I want more than just a . . .” he rested a fist on the table, “. . . a desk job.”

She didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, Daniel continued. “I have a meeting with the Director in a couple weeks, and I’m going to request a change. I want to bring the first squad I trained out into the field. You know the plane that Fitz designed?”

Daisy nodded.

“I’m going to ask to use that as a mobile command center. There are more and more threats popping up all over the place, and the military can only do so much. With Fitzsimmons, we’d be equipped to contain and handle anything. I think it’s time we stopped hiding in these underground . . . bomb shelters.”

Taking a deep breath, Daisy leaned against the door. “Okay. Sure.” She tried to collect her thoughts, but a hundred questions tried to escape her mouth at once. “Uh.”

Daniel sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. “Actually, I wanted to see if . . . If maybe, you would come with me?”

“Partners?” Her eyes lit up. “Me, you, Fitzsimmons?”

Sousa nodded. “Maybe Rodriguez or Hunter.”

Finally, Daisy smiled. She pulled off her gloves and flapped them around. “Sounds like the dream team.” Pulling herself away from the door, she extended her hand to Daniel. “Let’s do it.”

They shook on it.

.


	2. i hear the river say your name

.

.

.

.

_October 28 th, 2017_

.

Daisy Johnson knew two things for a fact: That she loved her job, and that she cared too much about people. Her tendency to devote herself completely to those two things often caused more harm than good.

“It’s not always a bad thing,” Fitz insisted. “Just means you have feelings. You’re human.”

“Maybe.” Daisy stared into her cereal bowl forlornly, stirring the milk around and around . . . watching as little patterns appeared, disappeared, morphed and changed. “But what about when I go into the field? All my friends . . . they could get hurt because of me.”

Fitz took a giant bite out of his breakfast burrito and had to wait before responding. “I . . .” he wiped his hands, “. . . I think you’ll do fine. If Simmons can move across the country with only a week’s notice, you can deal with some of your feelings.”

Grinning, Daisy looked up. “She was pretty terrified though.”

Fitz smirked and slurped his orange juice.

.

.

.

_November 21 st, 2017_

_._

The punching bag wouldn’t give.

Daisy paused, took a few deep breaths, adjusted her feet, and tried again.

 _Whack._ The bag swung by an inch.

The sound of her breathing and yelling filled the room, as she punched the bag harder and harder and harder. Why wouldn’t it move? She was weak. She was slacking, and it was all h—

“Off day today?”

She spun on her heel, fists still raised to guard her face. Daniel rested an arm against the doorframe, some sort of thoughtful, annoying grin just teasing her.

“Just try me and see,” she challenged.

“You know, you really should be packing.” Sousa moseyed into the room, slapping a punching bag on the way. “We ship out in a week, and your whole office is still—”

A foot flew toward his face, and he ducked, but barely in time. He felt wind whip through his hair.

Instantly he lunged, one hand grabbing for her glove, the other already aimed toward her face. She crossed her wrists, caught his hand, and _yanked_ it downward. Daniel twisted his upper body, planted his left leg behind her, and in one motion swept her feet out from under her.

But she had been ready. She curled into a ball, using the momentum of her fall to flip over into a backward somersault. Flinging the gloves from her hands, she grabbed his neck just as he was about to pin her down. Her hands slid down his arms, caught his wrists, and with all her might she shoved both her feet into his stomach, _heaved_ , and watched him fly over top of her and land with a _smack_ on the mat behind her.

A second later, he gasped hoarsely, but her sprung up onto his feet at the same time as Daisy did.

She stared him down, daring him to be the first to move.

They stood for a few moments, which felt like an eternity. Her brow dripped with sweat. Her fists ached from punching that bag, and she watched as he took in a deep enough breath to recover from his fall.

“Off day, huh?” she said, her breath not wanting to cooperate.

“Right . . .”

Daniel’s fist flew forward, and Daisy swept it away. His other arm aimed straight for her nose, but she blocked it. He aimed for her stomach, her head again, her shoulder . . . But she blocked them all.

But he just kept throwing the punches. And throwing them. And he wouldn’t stop, and her arms were aching . . .

She missed by half a millimeter. His fist met the side of her arm, and she stumbled. Her foot tripped. Daniel lunged forward and grabbed her forearms. But she was on her way down, and his balance was thrown off.

They both landed on the mat with a _thud,_ and Daisy fought to catch her breath. Especially since Daniel nearly landed on top of her a second later. Thankfully, he caught himself with his forearms a split second before his landing.

He stopped.

She was still grasping his arm, and his face was inches above hers.

Her breathing almost came to a halt.

A second dragged on.

He was close enough that she noticed a few gray hairs nearing his temples. One of his eyes was a shade lighter than the other . . . And he smelled like rubber and soap and dust . . .

“Sorry,” he said, rolling away and back onto his feet. “Guess my aim’s a little shaky.”

He extended a hand, and she took it. “Pack up, Agent Johnson,” he ordered as they both arranged themselves and wiped away some sweat. “I don’t want to be late on Monday.”

.

.

.

_November 27 th, 2017_

_._

“Can’t keep—”

“Building the mold—”

“Physics, or um—what’s the other one—inertia!”

Daniel dropped his bag with a _thunk._ “Come on, guys.”

Fitz glanced at the door for a split second, his hand still pointing accusingly at his partner.

“Chief Sousa,” Jemma exclaimed, a smile instantly brightening her face. “Ready for our journey into mystery?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you’re calling it.” Daniel grinned and walked into the _Zephyr One’s_ spacious, way-too-techy lab. He reached out a hand to try one of the new—

“No, no, no please don’t touch—" Fitz scrambled toward him, swatting the offending arm like an enraged mama bear. He took the piece of equipment and cradled it gently, placing it into a cushioned box and sealing the lid. “Very fragile, very—prototype.”

Simmons rolled her eyes.

Before Sousa could even open his mouth to laugh, Daisy burst into the lab. “Wheels up in five, guys.”

.

Daisy knew she cared too much about people. She just couldn’t help it.

She counted Fitzsimmons as part of her family; they had worked at Sci-Ops before joining the _Zephyr’s_ team, and she worked right next-door training recruits at the Academy. They ran into each other in the courtyard so much, they had no choice but to have lunch every day. Lunch turned into sneaking Daisy into the lab, which turned into mini, three-person parties at Simmons’ tiny apartment.

When Director Coulson gave the order for her to move across-country to Nevada of all places, she knew exactly who she needed to bring with.

Somehow she convinced Coulson that Area 51 needed two extra scientists, and within a week they were under the blazing Western heat, scrambling into the air-conditioned SHIELD base.

Now, they had hauled luggage from that same base – from their rooms, their labs, their offices, and loaded it into a massive ( _massive_ ) airplane that Fitz himself had designed.

Again, Daisy had convinced her superior (Sousa, this time) that he needed at least two scientists on the plane. After all, it was SHIELD’s first strike team. Anything could happen. They were SHIELD 101. They had to pave the way for both Daisy and Daniel’s trainees to one day form their own strike teams.

“The new face of SHIELD,” Coulson had called them. They would be the first line of defense against anything supernatural, that the military couldn’t handle. They would show the public just how strong SHIELD and the SSR had become. They were equipped for almost any situation. The _Zephyr One_ was the most advanced piece of aeronautics the world had ever seen. Fitz had worked with his hand-selected team of engineers for years, perfecting designs and prepping this plane for its first mission.

Daisy was on that plane with her friends, two minutes until Agent MacAuley lifted the bird into the air, and yet . . . she felt uneasy.

“All clear on level one,” she said.

The radio crackled, and Sousa’s voice replied, “All clear on level two.”

She barely registered Adler’s confirmation on level three, before MacAuley’s announcement came over the plane-wide loudspeaker.

“Attention, Agents. Sit down, buckle up . . . Let’s get this bird in the air.”

.

.

.

_May 8 th, 2018_

.

“Dammit, MacAuley, where are you?” Sousa clamped a hand to his ear. The wind made it almost impossible to hear anything, let alone an earbud. He jumped over a fallen tree and took a sharp turn to the left. “I have eyes on him—Does anyone copy?”

The woods seemed to close in around him, branches scraping his arms, leaves flying into his eyes. The suspect was getting further away . . . had almost disappeared into the forest. Daniel kept running. His legs ached.

“Drop!” he ordered, his voice too hoarse to yell properly. “We have guns in the air and we’re not afraid to shoot!”

A massive _crack_ sounded from his right, and he redirected his course.

“Johnson,” he tried again, clutching his radio. He was breathing too hard to make out even his own words. “Do you copy?”

Before he could tell if there had been a reply, a huge red beam of light shot over the trees, barely twenty feet in front of him.

He stopped and stumbled backwards.

The light kept going, and going, and Sousa thought he would be blinded by it before he remembered to look away . . .

Something hurtled from the trees behind him, a streak of black Kevlar and purple hair.

He heard two _zings_ , a _thud_ . . . and the red light disappeared.

Daniel sat there, catching his breath for a moment.

“Chief, come look at this.”

He heaved himself to his feet and followed the sound of Daisy’s voice into the trees. “What happened?”

She was kneeling next to a figure. “You tell me.”

It was a man, and he was stiff as a board . . . his eyes were open and bright red . . . and every inch of his body had thick, gray smoke rising from it, as if smoldering. 

Suddenly, the figure burst into flames.

Daisy jumped back, falling against a tree trunk.

The man lifted off the ground, rising, rising . . . he was seven feet in the air . . .

Daniel swore he went blind. The flash of light and horrible, scraping, gunshot-like sound knocked him backwards again, and he used the momentum to seize Daisy around her shoulders and haul her to the ground.

.

Daisy’s head was pounding.

“Ah, good,” a sweet, business-like voice said from above her. “Since you’re both awake, can I please tell you—” Simmons circled her bed, typing something into a tablet, “—how unbelievably _stupid_ you both were?”

From beside her, Sousa groaned. “Thanks, Doc.”

Daisy tried to open her mouth, but it took a moment to get her tongue to cooperate. “H—how . . . Where . . . Did we get him?”

Simmons stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “He exploded, Daisy.”

“Oh.”

The scientist sighed. “He took all the evidence with him, too.”

Daisy’s eyes didn’t want to stay open. _What evidence?_

“I found one of his gloves,” Sousa said, already trying to sit up. Jemma gave him a disapproving glare. But he continued: “I think . . . I think it was his, at least.”

The door _hissed_ open.

“It wasn’t,” MacAuley said. “Fitz just ran the DNA. It didn’t match his SHIELD file.”

Agent Parker MacAuley strolled through the med bay, stopping at the little alcove that housed a few radios. Her hair almost caught in the door, and she missed hitting her head on the shelf by a millimeter.

Daniel swung his feet over the side of his bed. “Take my IVs out, please.”

“You’re not—” Simmons protested.

“That’s an order, Agent Simmons.”

Jemma huffed a sigh.

As Daniel wobbled out of the room (leaning on every surface he could reach), Daisy and Jemma watched him in disbelief, that disapproving glare ever present on Jemma’s face.

“I think the guy was part of the Centipede program,” MacAuley said after a moment.

Daisy’s eyes snapped to her, and she sat up with a vigor . . . and almost blacked out. “What?”

“Think about it,” Parker continued, easing herself into the cushioned chair and folded her legs under herself. “The superpower, the exploding . . . I mean, he outran the Chief for what, five miles?”

Jemma shook her head. “He was just strong—”

“Simmons, he _exploded._ ”

The room fell silent.

The truth was that none of them knew what they had encountered that day. They had their theories, they had their educated guesses . . . But they hadn’t seen anything like that running man or the beam of light he produced since . . . _Since New York,_ Sousa had muttered.

Daisy hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him to tell who he was, but after the Quinjet dropped her off next to that beam of light and she ran full-force toward it, she had felt something . . . tugging at her. Almost like the light was familiar, and she _needed_ to understand what it was . . . Even like she already _knew._

She had felt bad for shooting the guy, even if it was only an ICER.

But she shouldn’t have. It should have been fine.

So why did she want to save him? He was a threat; he had killed so many people. Why did she feel like . . . like they were the same?

She shook those thoughts from her head as well as she could, but the feelings remained.

There was more to that person than she (or any of the team) knew.

.

.


	3. shadows shifting in the rain

.

.

.

_May 20 th, 2018_

.

“You ever heard of inhumans?”

Daisy’s head whipped around, her hands lingering on the keyboard. Sousa stared at her from over his computer screen.

“Coulson just sent me a really short file on them,” he explained. “Come see.”

The lights in the research lab flickered, and Daisy rubbed her eyes. Sighing, she hauled herself to her feet. Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Time for another round in the healing pod?”

“Nope,” Daisy said, stretching herself as far backward as she could. Her back cracked. “Never again. I hate that thing.”

She peered over Daniel’s shoulder, eyes straining to see the tiny black letters on his screen.

_FIELD REPORT: September 5 th, 1997, time was 2254. _

_Encounter with super-powered being. Powers included: sharp eyesight, ability to create fire out of thin air. Called himself “inhuman.” Very strange encounter, spoke for a moment before the man disappeared into the forest. Could not trace. Very dark, lost my flashlight a few miles back. Re-joined the team a few hours later._

_Agent Dirk Reynolds. Strategic Scientific Reserve._

Daisy felt a strange shiver down her spine.

“Why have we never heard of this?” Daniel wondered. “Coulson said the SSR’s never seen weird powers like this before.”

“I mean, I’ve never heard ‘inhuman,’ but we know there are superhumans out there.”

Sousa rubbed his chin. “Yeah, but not ones that shoot fire out of their hands.”

“Something to research more, I guess.” Daisy pulled up her chair and read the field report again. “Have you tried searching FBI files? CIA? Do we know who that guy was?” The weird feeling in her stomach wouldn’t subside. The word _inhuman_ triggered something deep inside her that made her want to run away from it. It was as if she’d heard it long, long ago . . . in another life. Maybe she’d read it somewhere? Maybe someone said it when she was a kid . . .

“This is all he sent,” Daniel said. “If the CIA had something on it, we’d know by now. Coulson would have told me.”

The words all meshed together on the screen in front of Daisy’s eyes. “You think the guy from last week was an . . . inhuman?”

Daniel shrugged. “Just a theory.”

.

Daisy couldn’t get the word out of her head.

 _Inhuman_.

Something struck a chord in the very back of her deepest, darkest memories. Almost like a whisper from someone she used to know . . .

She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts.

A line appeared in her mind.

A circle joined it.

She saw it as clearly as the people standing in front of her. Another line was drawn, down toward the floor, like a knife tearing through the thick air. She steadied herself on the table. Two more circles appeared at the end of the line. They glowed yellow . . . she shut her eyes, trying to block it out. They shone brighter.

She couldn’t stop it—they kept appearing . . . all over the room . . . She clutched her opposite elbows, leaning heavily on the table . . .

“Daisy?” A hand rested on her shoulder.

She gasped . . . blinked.

The lines were gone.

“What happened?” Simmons asked, her hand weighing heavily on Daisy’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I just—” She took a deep breath. “I think something . . . Something is wrong—” Daisy was shaking. “I need to go.”

.

.

.

_July 1 st, 2018_

.

The weeks flew by.

Quite literally, as the team lived on the _Zephyr One_ , responding to calls and researching anomalies and calming citizen’s concerns about various supernatural happenings. 

The crazy nature of their duties seemed to distract Daisy for a while.

Daniel was never sure what, exactly, had triggered such an intense emotional response from his partner that forced her to lay on top of the grounded _Zephyr_ , clutching an ICER in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. She was stargazing, she had told him, and it never hurt to be armed.

“Binoculars aren’t going to get you much further with the stars,” he had replied, not believing a word she said.

Her silent outburst in the lab earlier that same day had worried him. She all but collapsed on the table, Simmons catching her arm on the way down. And for days, Agent Johnson had not been the same. She walked around with a glazed look, sometimes staring at walls for what seemed like hours. She was distracted during missions, her razor-sharp focus dulled to such an unrecognizable state that Sousa wondered if she was still the same agent he had known for all those years at the Area 51 base. 

But she did improve, to his immense relief. Her early morning Tai Chi sessions seemed to ground her, and their late-night talks seemed to encourage her. He pressed as much as he felt able, without crossing any personal boundaries. But she never told him exactly what she was thinking.

He had his theories, though . . . and most of them revolved around that word. Inhuman. He didn’t want to startle her, so he didn’t mention it again.

They were a good team, great partners, and why would he upset her? Granted, it didn’t make sense. Her reaction was so unlike her—he knew something must have shaken her to the core.

Hopefully . . . hopefully they would find some answers.

.

.

.

_August 11 th, 2019_

.

“Adler, you’re with Fitz. Simmons and MacAuley, stay here for backup—Johnson and I will take point. Watch each other’s sixes.” Sousa strapped an ICER to his hip and finished pulling on his gloves. “Remember: capture, don’t harm. We just need a name. Understood?”

Echoes of “yes, sir” sounded through the cargo bay of the _Zephyr._

With roaring of engines and not a small amount of banter, the team of four rolled away, into the hot, dry, windy Arizona desert.

“Why so slow, Chief? We need to start calling you Turtle again,” a familiar voice rang through his earbud. Sousa fiddled with the ATV’s handlebars. Something had happened to the throttle . . .

“Can it, Johnson. Not everyone’s an adrenaline junkie around here,” he retorted. Uprooted cactuses and stray rocks flew past his legs as the three other vehicles raced ahead of him, and he thanked heaven for combat boots and thick pant material. “I’ll be there, just having trouble with the controls.”

.

The mission should have been easy. They were investigating a leak that had recently sprung somewhere within SHIELD, which had alerted all news outlets of a very important, top-secret project, called Project Insight.

Director Coulson had done everything he could to keep the news outlets quiet, but the source of the leak hadn’t been found. And who knew what other information might be spread?

They had reason to believe that a small group of researchers in Arizona had been affiliated with SHIELD in some way, and one man—named Rick Benairo—was in charge of it. Their mission was to question him, find the name of the leak, and go about their day.

But nothing in SHIELD was ever that simple.

.

When Daniel pulled up to the research facility, it looked deserted.

Huge black holes littered the walls. There were streaks of what looked like blood and dirty footprints running in and out.

The team was supposed to be there. They should have arrived just five minutes ago. Their ATVs were parked out front.

He would just have to search.

Sousa kept his back to the walls, calling on every piece of training he’d ever received. His flashlight illuminated all the wrong shadows, making him jump at the shape of a tall metal machine . . . a cardboard box . . . a half-open door . . .

The hallways seemed to close in on him, and he continuously tapped on his watch, desperately hoping the team would get his signal . . .

“Sousa,” someone hissed from not even three feet behind him. A hand grabbed his belt and hauled him to the side.

He stumbled, hand tightening on the ICER. His shoulder crashed into the wall.

Next to him, he could hear short breathing and soft footsteps. “Sorry.”

“Johnson,” he demanded, voice stern but hushed, “what is going on? Where are the others?”

“Shh,” Daisy answered. “They’re walking over to another building. Half a mile, I think. I’m searching this one.”

They crept through the hallways, this time with less hesitation. Daniel felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the sound of Daisy’s boots beside him.

Nothing moved.

The pitch darkness continued, even around corners and into rooms . . .

“I think we’re underground now,” Daisy whispered.

Sousa flicked his flashlight to the side, and they pushed through another set of doors. “How long we been walking?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?”

Their footsteps echoed louder and louder the further they walked. The dark was suffocating, and even with Daisy at his side, Daniel felt exposed—vulnerable.

Daisy gasped. “Did you see that?”

Leaning toward her, Sousa scanned the area with his flashlight. Nothing was out of the ordinary . . . except the wall in front of them.

It was covered in strange markings. Lines, circles, and dots spread out like a maze, wrapping around the corner, shining white and mechanical in the darkness. Each line was connected to another—each circle joined with the lines . . . always perfectly straight, masterfully carved . . .

“Whatever this is . . . must be a hell of a secret to hide if they had to build such a—”

Sousa never got to finish.

Before another word left his mouth, his feet were swept out from under him, something rang in the back of his head . . .

And the world faded in a burst of stars.

.

.

.

 _“No!”_ Daisy screamed, hurling herself toward the group of men.

She tackled the nearest thug. They went down in a cloud of dust, Daisy’s fists meeting his jaw over and over . . . Even after his eyes closed and her fist met no resistance.

A pair of hands gripped her upper arms, and someone clutched her eyes. She screamed and fought and clawed, but they were too strong.

Too strong . . . She was too weak to save Daniel . . . She was too weak to get there in time, and now . . . now . . . He was dead.

She caught a glimpse of open eyes, stark red sand, a twisted leg. Her ears stopped hearing things. Her forehead was numb. All she knew was to scream and to scream and that he was dead.

Backup wasn’t coming. Their communication was too far gone, and they had taken him too far into the canyon.

She was alone.

She was alone, and he was dead. And it was her fault.

.

.

.

_August 14 th, 2019_

.

When Daniel Sousa woke, he was surrounded by glass.

His hand instinctively flew up, crashing into the low glass ceiling, and his breath hitched . . . He saw flashes of light and color and—

“Easy, Chief.”

The familiar voice rang like a steel bell in Daniel’s ear. He flinched.

“Feel okay?”

Daniel tried to take a breath. He blinked, exhaled . . . and turned his head.

Agent Trent Adler smiled. “You’ve been out a couple days. How do you feel?”

Everything spun. He couldn’t feel his leg . . . his head pounded like someone took a hammer to it. He tried to open his mouth. It felt like ten cotton balls had been stuffed into it.

He cleared his throat . . . swallowed.

“Like shit,” he answered honestly, his own voice barely reaching his ears.

“Figures,” Adler said. “I’ll go tell Simmons you’re awake.”

The room grew silent again. Sousa shut his eyes again, taking deep breaths, trying to block out the flashing lights above him. The healing pod was a blessing, but he wondered if Simmons could have made it without the lights . . .

A memory floated to the forefront of his mind.

_Light._

_Those glowing symbols. Daisy’s gasp._

_Blowing sand._

_Beating, pounding sunlight._

_Seven gunshots. He crumpled like a ragdoll. He couldn’t feel his leg . . ._

_Daisy was screaming . . . she had come to rescue him. The team would be there soon . . ._

_A blunt force knocked the breath out of him . . ._

_Nothing._

.

.

.

_August 18th, 2019_

_._

Recovery sucked.

The _Zephyr_ had made it to the Area 51 base, just in time. Jemma’s healing pod worked wonders, but Sousa was in critical condition. He had lost more blood than any human should, and Jemma really didn’t know how he had survived at all. Sheer force of will, she had told him.

But the gunshots and the cracked ribs weren’t the worst of his problems.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Simmons said. “If we had found you even an hour earlier, it may have been different.”

He had taken three bullets to the leg. Three.

No one should be _that_ bad of a shot.

His hands shook as Simmons, ever the respectful, to-the-point doctor, told him he needed emergency surgery.

The word “amputate,” rang in his mind like a curse. 

.

When he woke again, he was surrounded by white.

Sousa heaved himself up to his elbows, screwed his eyes closed . . . then opened them.

One foot poked out from under the sheets, and to the right of it . . . nothing. A flat bed. His breath caught.

He felt bile rising in his chest, burning his throat, making his eyes water.

The door opened. Simmons padded into the room, tablet in one hand, and a washcloth in the other. She set the tablet down and gently pushed Sousa’s shoulder backward, so his head fell onto the pillow.

“Here.” She handed him the washcloth, which was blessedly cold. “How’s your pain level?”

He took a deep breath. “Fine.”

That seemed good enough for her. She busied herself with his vitals, checking his temperature, his pulse. She rearranged his IV and fluffed his pillows . . . but the silence was palpable.

“Simmons,” he said.

“Hm?”

Sousa gripped the doctor’s wrist. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Jemma pursed her lips. “I don’t want to upset you.”

A cold weight settled in his gut.

“Agent Simmons—” he suddenly broke into a heaving cough, each breath feeling like his lungs would collapse. She handed him a cup of water.

He tried again. “Agent Simmons, tell me what is going on. That’s an order.”

Jemma removed her arm from his grip and circled his bed, typing something on her tablet. She looked up, her dark eyes sorrowful and far too sympathetic.

“It’s Daisy, sir.” She swallowed, glancing to the side nervously. “We can’t find her. She’s gone.”

.

.

.


	4. i've been searching high and low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that! Another chapter! After all this time....  
> Granted, it's sort of a filler. But I hope you guys like it, and let me know what you thought-- I love hearing from all of you!!
> 
> Enjoy!

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ June 7 _ _ th _ _ , 2020 _

.

Daniel never thought he’d have to learn to walk again. 

He never thought he’d lose his best teammate and field partner. 

And he most certainly never thought he’d ever have to work a desk job. Granted, it wasn’t what most people would consider a desk job, but after a life of constant running, fighting, training . . . more than two hours behind a desk felt like an eternity.

Even after ten months, he just couldn’t get used to it.

Daniel sighed heavily and reached for his crutches. He had tried all the prosthetics Fitz and Simmons built for him, but nothing would ever feel the same. No leg they produced, no team members he worked with, and no position within SHIELD he held could ever hold would feel normal anymore.

He just had to get used to it.

“Any updates,  MacAuley ?” he asked as he limped through the bullpen. 

She glanced up with a start, almost knocking over a coffee cup. “No, sir. We thought we had another lead earlier today, turns out it was just a civilian trying to get on our good side with a vague tip.” 

He nodded and pursed his lips, eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t give up yet.”

“Yes, sir.”  MacAuley opened her mouth again to speak, then thought better of it and hunched back over her desk, fingers typing madly on her keyboard.

Area 51 felt huge and empty these days. 

The training program had continued through the two years he was gone on  _ Zephyr One, _ thanks to Davis and his relentless perfectionism. But even though Coulson had since then officially appointed Daniel as Chief of the entire West Coast division of SHIELD, he felt more detached from his team and the goings-on of his base every day. 

The agents he had personally trained were respectful, of course, but he saw their nervous glances down at the gaping emptiness that was his right leg. Or, used to be. They seemed to tread on eggshells around him, instead of picking up where they’d left off three years ago, with their banter and jokes and smirks hidden behind “yes sirs.” 

But more shocking than the absence of his leg was the noticeable absence of a certain Agent Johnson who, Daniel had to inform everyone, was officially missing in action . . . and had been for almost a year.

.

“Looking good, Chief.”

Daniel let himself fall into the soft chair and raised an eyebrow at Director Coulson. “All things considered, right sir?” he corrected.

Coulson shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He shuffled a stack of papers, set down his pen, and leaned back to stare Sousa in the eye. “I’ve heard training is going well.”

“Yes, sir. I knew Davis was a good choice. His agents have come out better than I could have asked for.” 

Coulson smiled and nodded his approval. 

A moment of silence elapsed, and Daniel almost opened his mouth to speak. But Coulson beat him to it.

“And the search?” the Director asked. 

Sousa sighed and rearranged himself in the chair. He didn’t meet Coulson’s eyes right away. “Not good. I’ve had  MacAuley working the front end, and she’s had maybe one lead in the last two months. Fitzsimmons are working on it when they can. They found a—” he searched for the right word, “a  _ crumb. _ Couple weeks ago. Some sighting of an unrecorded group of vigilantes busting a drug deal in Morocco. The witness said the photo of Daisy matched one of the members, but she also said Daisy looked just like Angelina Jolie, so . . . we let her go.”

A slight grin lit up Coulson’s face, and it was a welcome change from the past few months.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen that, myself,” the Director laughed. “I bet she’d love to hear it though.”

Daniel almost grinned. “Who, Daisy? Or Angelina Jolie?”

A weight settled in his stomach. Throwing around Daisy’s name casually made him uncomfortable. She had only been gone ten months, but after four years of a close partnership with one person—four years of making jokes, training together, talking into the late hours of the night, building a strike team, facing life-or-death situations—he just  couldn’t take her absence lightly. And thankfully for him, neither could his team. He always noticed the sideways glances Fitz threw at him whenever they ate lunch together. He always saw  MacAuley hunched over her cluttered desk, reading field report after field report for  some kind of clue . He always thanked Fitzsimmons,  almost every day, for their contributions to SHIELD. (They knew very well what that meant, and it  didn’t just have to do with building planes and weapons.)

Sousa took a breath and got back to the point at hand. He debriefed Coulson on everything he needed to, and promised to not over-work himself. There were plenty of agents working Daisy’s case, and  as long as Daniel could oversee them, he would be alright.

“You need to focus on your recovery,” Coulson reminded him. “Simmons told me you don’t like to use a prosthetic.”

“No, sir.” 

Coulson paused. “I know she’s been doing some physical therapy with you, but I’d like you to start some with a specialist. If you want to be back in the field,  you’ll need that prosthetic.”

_ Back in the field? _

Daniel had to stop. He leaned forward and drew his eyebrows together. “The . . . the field? Sir?”

“You didn’t think I’d let five of my best agents sit around at their desks all day forever, did you?” Coulson grinned.

“I—” Sousa started, then paused again. “It’s only been ten months, and we . . . didn’t exactly prove ourselves the first time—”

Coulson stood up while Daniel was speaking, and leaned himself against the front of his desk. He looked Daniel dead in the eye and crossed his arms. “You’ve proven everything I could have possibly been looking for. I hired you to train agents, and you delivered the best squad  I’ve seen in all of SHIELD. I sent Daisy and Fitzsimmons to you, only because your base was growing too fast to be managed by one person, and you exceeded my expectations with them, too.  They’ve come a long way under your supervision, Agent Sousa. And we will figure out what happened to Daisy. If you want to keep conducting this search, then I will help you with whatever resources you need. 

“But you’re wrong,” the Director continued. “SHIELD 101 was a success, and everyone knows it. You made a real difference out there in the world, and . . .” Coulson smiled again, “ _ Zephyr One _ is still yours, whenever you’re ready for her.”

.

.

.

_ September 18 _ _ th _ _ , 2020 _

.

“Well, I think it’s hopeless.”

Simmons threw her hands in the air and sighed. “Would you stop  _ saying  _ that, Fitz?”

“No, he’s got a point.” Adler poked his head around his computer. “We haven’t had any assignments from the Director—”

“—Or from the Chief,” Fitz interjected.

Adler nodded. “In at least two months. For all we know, we could be grounded here. Or worse—” He shuddered, “—sent on assignment.”

Fitzsimmons raised their eyebrows, both turning their heads  in sync to stare at their teammate.

“I mean,” Adler corrected, “without you guys.” He swept a hand around in a vague gesture. “All of you. You know? Somewhere else. Somewhere  _ boring.”  _

Jemma smiled kindly and nodded. Fitz wrinkled his eyebrows and stared Adler down for a few more seconds.

“As I was  _ saying,”  _ Fitz continued, shoving his safety goggles back onto his face, “we—”

But he was cut off by a noise.

A shrieking siren blasted into the lab, and all three agents felt their hearts leap into their throats. 

Red lights blazed around the room.

Muffled voices shouted from the hallways.

“Code twenty-four,” someone hollered, and Fitz’s chest went cold. 

He tore off his rubber gloves, threw his goggles to the side, and grabbed Jemma’s hand. She pulled him to the side, yanked a huge silver case off her desk, and the pair sprinted into the hallway, joining the mass exodus.

Agents all around them tried to help each other. Tried to get into formation. Some stumbled. Fitz just kept running. And running. He swerved around corners, ducked through doorways, never letting go of Simmons’ hand. 

Finally he burst into a supply closet and  immediately began throwing aside old pieces of tech, crates filled with tac gear, a few weapons . . .

“What are you doing?” Jemma cried. “Fitz, we need to get out of here,  _ now.” _

It had to be here . . . somewhere . . . “Hold on,” he said breathlessly, hauling aside an old, broken metal sheet. “Remember that thing Daisy gave us?”

Simmons nodded.

“Start looking,” Fitz continued after glancing back at her, “I hid it around the—”

“Fitzsimmons!” 

Jemma whirled around to face the door.

Sousa rushed toward them, glancing  every which way , patting agents’ backs as they hurried for the exits. “What in God’s name are you doing?” he demanded.

Instead of answering, Jemma shoved the silver case into the Chief’s hands and gave him a firm, pointed stare.

The sirens  seemed to double their strength. 

“Get out of here.  That’s an order,” Sousa said, but he gave Simmons a sharp nod and pursed his lips. 

“Yes sir,” Fitz finally exclaimed, holding up a small black box, no bigger than his fist, like a trophy.

.

A blast of hot, Nevada air met them on the way out. 

Jemma sprinted for the nearest  Quinjet , Fitz right on her heels .  MacAuley was not far behind. 

“Parker,” Jemma cried as Fitz slammed the button to lower the ramp. 

MacAuley stopped, looked back at the base’s entrance, and  immediately began sprinting as hard as she could back toward the door. 

Simmons wanted to scream again, but she scrambled into the jet and shoved Fitz toward the pilot’s seat. “Wait for Parker,” she ordered. 

Jemma had her eyes fixed on her teammate. 

And she saw why Parker had changed course. 

Sousa and Adler stumbled out of the door, still trying to help agents along. A puff of dark,  sooty smoke followed them. 

MacAuley placed herself between the two men, caught her arm around Adler’s waist, and hauled Sousa along by his arm. 

“Is everyone out?” Sousa demanded,  coughing and sputtering as he limped.

Fitz set down his headset and called, “All agents accounted for, sir!”

The three collapsed into the  Quinjet, the big silver box clattering onto the floor.  Jemma rushed to them, a thousand scenarios flying through her head. _Smoke in their lungs, in their eyes . . . would they be alright . . .?_ _Thank goodness the Chief's extra prosthetic survived . . ._

“Then get this bird in the air, Fitz,” Sousa said, and immediately doubled over, coughing. 

“Copy that.” Fitz wasted no time following orders.

As they soared over Area 51, toward the  _ Zephyr _ to dock, Fitz kept his eyes fixed on the sky as much as he could. 

Two little dots  _ pinged _ on the radar . . . two freight train-like sounds invaded the radio static . . . and two blazing objects came speeding down from the sky . . .

. . . Straight into the base he had called home for so long. 

But what he hardly processed—what he couldn’t even force his eyes to see—was the markings on the two bogies.

As Area 51 went up in a mushroom cloud of dust and debris, Fitz realized it.

The white markings on those two missiles . . . were SHIELD logos.

.

.

.

_ September 21 _ _ st _ _ , 2020 _

.

“And you’re sure that’s what you saw?”

Fitz swallowed nervously and glanced to the side. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

Nodding, Daniel sighed. He let his hand fall onto the table. “I don’t want you to tell the rest of the team.”

“What, keep secrets from them?” Fitz drew his eyebrows together and leaned back in his chair. 

“Not . . .” Sousa tried again. “I mean, I don’t want them to worry unnecessarily. We all have enough on our plates as it is.”

“But if there’s a threat to —”

Sousa held up a hand. “I know. I don’t like it. And I’ll be looking into it. You should too, by the way. Research anything and everything you can. You’re the weapons expert around here, so I’d like you to find out why,” his voice became low and serious, and Fitz recoiled a bit, “two marked SHIELD missiles blew my base to bits. I have a hard time believing it was a mistake.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The Chief sighed and ran a hand over his face.

Footsteps sounded outside the door . . . but walked away again, and Fitz tapped his foot.

“Sousa,” he finally offered. “I have something else to tell you.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Not another missile strike?”

Fitz almost laughed, but stopped himself. “No. I . . .” he reached into the briefcase beside him and pulled out a black box. “I saved something before the base blew. Thought you should have it.”

He slid the box across the table, and Sousa picked it up like it was made of glass.

“It’s a hard drive,” Fitz explained, fingers tapping on the chair’s armrests. “Daisy gave it to me for safe-keeping two years ago. She never said exactly what . . .” He took a breath. “She had been doing some research, I think. Not sure what kind. But she told me to keep it hidden, just not necessarily safe. Figured it was important enough to rescue.”

Daniel was speechless. 

He set the drive back down, with all the care in the world, and stared at it like he’d just found the most precious diamond. 

Fitz glanced down, then back up, then leaned forward. “I’m sorry we haven’t found anything else.”

They had tried. 

The search for Daisy was second priority for most of them. They missed her, yes, and her disappearance was a mystery. But people went MIA. And sometimes they came back . . . sometimes they didn’t. Fitz just knew that Daniel would do anything to find her again, and if there was anything he and Jemma could do to help, they would in a heartbeat. But the trail had gone ice-cold. It had been months since any real leads had come up, and if Daisy didn’t show herself before the next year, the case would have to be closed. For good. He didn’t want to see that happen, and he knew Sousa would fight tooth and nail before he allowed that. 

Fitz had never been good with his own emotions . . . but watching Daniel sit, frozen, staring at a hard drive that Daisy had put together . . . He recognized something at the back of his mind. Something not entirely unfamiliar. 

He filed it away for later analyzation. 

.

.

.

_ September 22 _ _ nd _ _ , 2020 _

.

** Name: Daisy Johnson **

** Affiliation: SHIELD **

** Date: May 29 ** ** th ** ** , 2018 **

** Title/Topic of Research: ** ** HYDRA **

**_ What we know: HYDRA was defeated after World War II. Red Skull was killed by Captain America in 1945. The SSR wiped out the rest of the organization a few years later. No remaining members have been recorded. _ **

**_ Observation: Some suspicious activity within SHIELD. A few agents taken aside for questioning; results came back inconclusive. Will continue to monitor. _ **

**_ Observation: HYDRA logo found in a SHIELD file from 3/2/15. File did not pertain to history or HYDRA, and source of the logo is still unknown. Will continue to monitor. _ **

**_ Theory: Remnants of HYDRA still remain. Results of research inconclusive. Will bring it up with Director Coulson upon return to headquarters. _ **

**_ End. _ **

**_. _ **

.

Sousa sat back in his chair. 

That . . . That was not what he expected to find on that hard drive.

He definitely had some work to do.

.

.

.


	5. i watch the birds fly by

.

.

.

When Daisy Johnson was less than two years old, her mom disappeared.

Her dad cried for weeks.

When Daisy was eight years old, she asked her dad why the other kids had moms, and she didn’t.

Her dad said that bad people took her mom away.

So little Daisy vowed to get her mom back somehow.

When Daisy was eleven years old, her dad told her the whole story. Her mom hadn’t disappeared . . . She had died. 

“Hydra did it,” he had whispered. But she must never say that word to another person, in her whole life. Daisy nodded solemnly.

When Daisy was eighteen years old, she joined the army. 

Her dad fought her every step of the way, saying it was far too dangerous. She should follow in his footsteps and become a doctor.

But if bad people killed her mom, what better choice was there than to fight those people? Wipe them out of existence?

The army didn’t fight Hydra, Calvin Johnson argued. 

It didn’t matter, Daisy insisted. People out there still wanted to hurt other people, and that was enough reason for her to want to do some good in the world.

When Daisy Johnson was twenty-five years old, a man named Phil Coulson approached her. 

He was from SHIELD, he had told her. And he wanted her to work for them. 

When she read up on some history—how SHIELD used to be the SSR, which wiped out HYDRA after World War II—she signed her life away for the second time. 

She established herself quickly within SHIELD (apparently her reputation from her time in the army was more widespread than she had thought), finished a few months at the academy, and before she knew it, she was being shipped out to Area 51 . . . where her life would be changed forever.

But when Daisy Johnson was less than thirty-two years old, she disappeared.

.

.

.

_ December 16 _ _ th _ _ , 2020 _

.

Daisy’s fingers were about to freeze off. She brought them to her face, stuffing them into the opening of her coat collar to stave off frostbite. 

“You could have warned me about the snow,” she said. 

“Sorry, Tremors,” Mack’s voice buzzed through her radio. “I packed a coat for you, but I guess Mister Melty here forgot to mention where you were headed.”

“It wasn’t important,” Joey retorted, his voice crackling with static.

Daisy rolled her eyes, trudging further and further into the icy forest. 

Joey kept defending his point: “It is winter in Northern America, you know. Should have guessed.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy muttered. She shrugged, adjusting her backpack. 

A few minutes passed, and she took a sharp left. “Coordinates?”

“You’re almost there,” Mack answered. “Should be to the north a bit, about five hundred yards. You got it? We’re going radio silent in ten.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Daisy stepped carefully over a frozen pond. “Thanks, guys. See you in a couple weeks?”

“Whenever you need us,” Joey assured her. “Just break it to them slow. They’ll understand.”

Daisy turned her face to the sky and took a deep breath of icy air. “I know. It’s just . . . been a while.”

.

.

.

Daniel Sousa stared out the window at the angry, swirling snow. 

It was a week until Christmas, and he could use a miracle. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious person. His father had always made it a point to take him to church every single week, rain or shine (or snow), and Daniel believed in miracles. But he had seen too much of the world and become too cynical to keep his faith. For most people, that would have made their faith stronger. But Daniel didn’t know what went wrong along the way.

But  that day , he prayed for the first time since his father had almost died of pneumonia . . . and that had been fourteen years ago. 

The snow outside was relentless, and it only grew stronger. 

A few trees right outside his window were barely visible . . . until they were enveloped in pure white after just a minute.

He hadn’t seen a blizzard since he lived in Idaho as a child. 

He sighed, stretched himself out as far as his chair would allow . . . then rubbed his face and positioned his fingers over the keyboard again. 

** “December 16 ** ** th ** ** , 2020 **

**_ Subject: Follow-up to Former Agent Johnson’s search regarding HYDRA within SHIELD _ **

**_ Thus far—Search inconclusive _ **

**_ Limited evidence to back up Johnson’s analysis. Multiple interviews have been conducted. Most using a lie detector designed by Agent Fitz and Agent Koenig. Disguised as routine questioning. _ **

**_ Old files have been combed repeatedly.  _ **

**_ Still not sure of this “suspicious activity” Johnson was referring to. _ **

**_ I will be pausing my research for the time being. Agents will be leaving the base for Christmas in the coming week, and all are a bit distracted at the moment. Research will resume in January.  _ **

**_ Chief Daniel Sousa, SHIELD Division 3” _ **

Sousa let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Three months with the hard drive Daisy had left him, and still he had found nothing. His days dragged on and on, never seeming to change pace. He could sense the restlessness of his team, especially those that had been with him on the Zephyr for those  two years. 

MacAuley , especially, had been begging for an assignment. But Sousa couldn’t give her anything to do on her own, and he hadn’t been able to reach the Director in a while. 

Fitzsimmons bickered more and more these days, and Adler looked like he had a constant gray cloud following him around.

They had settled into their new base (nicknamed the Playground) within a few weeks. They all missed Area 51, and arrangements were already being made to rebuild. 

But even though the days were slow and tedious, riddled with arguments and physical therapy sessions, Daniel’s thoughts were constantly consumed with this new witch hunt Daisy had unknowingly sent him on. 

“Want to grab some lunch?” A voice from the doorway startled him out of his thoughts.

Daniel glanced up to see Fitz’s familiar smile. The scientist was holding a tablet, and his safety goggles were pushed up to the top of his head. Jemma poked her head through the door behind him. 

“Why not?” Sousa said, and he filed away his memo, shut off his computer, and followed his friends down to the mess hall.

It had taken a while to get used to the maze-like layout of the Playground, since the Area 51 base was very much built like a grid. Here, some hallways weren’t straight, so it was easy to get misplaced. Sousa considered putting up subtle signs or landmarks in the halls, so at least he wouldn’t get turned around anymore.

Fitzsimmons’ hushed voices preceded him, and they traded tablets quickly, checking over each other’s work. 

“Any updates, guys?”

They both turned and let him catch up. On his off days, he preferred not to use a prosthetic, and walking on two crutches was more tedious than he’d have liked to let on. 

“Only a few,” Jemma answered. “We were able to collect some shrapnel from the blast site that may lead us to the exact factory the missiles were produced. Then we can track where they send their products, and hopefully have a couple more leads.”

Sousa smiled. “Good work.” 

.

.

.

Daisy was lost.

Not only had Joey not told her where she would be going, he had failed to mention there would be an actual blizzard.

Granted, she had a good sense of direction, but that didn’t exactly matter when all she could see on all sides was pure white.

Mack had waited to go radio silent until she was basically standing over her destination, but that was still before the world disappeared. 

_ Three paces to the left, five forward, reach out a hand . . . bingo. _ But his very detailed instructions had failed her. She only hoped the base had an advanced-enough security system to detect her arrival and send someone out to find her.

But until then, she just wanted to stay warm.

She tugged her coat around her and leaned hard into the tree. The rough bark caught her hair. She stared at her compass as if it could talk to her, maybe tell her how the team was doing.

She had missed them.

If anything had been different, she wouldn’t have stayed gone so long . . . But one thing led to another . . .

Daisy shook her head and brushed off the snow. Her feet ached. In fact, she couldn’t feel her little toe . . . Or her nose, for that matter. 

She stared ahead into the white shroud. 

Anytime, now . . .

.

.

.

“And then,” Fitz leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “Rand drops the bomb. Right onto the floor.”

Sousa raised his eyebrows.

Jemma smiled wearily and took another bite of her sandwich.

“It’s funny, you know?” Fitz prodded. “Because it happened to be fake. Otherwise the entire academy would have—” He made an expanding motion with his hands and puffed out his cheeks to make a sound vaguely reminiscent of an explosion.

“Are you trying to tell that academy story again?”  MacAuley asked, plopping her tray down on the table beside Jemma. “Give it up, man. It’s not as funny as you remember.”

Fitz’s face fell, and he glared at Parker. “How would you know? You weren’t there.”

“Rand tried to tell me the same story,” she explained, stuffing her mouth with a baked potato. “Just as boring as yours.”

Daniel grinned at Parker and slapped Fitz on the back, trying to be encouraging but unable to hold back his laughter. “I’m sure it was hilarious.”

Fitz tore a piece of chicken off the drumstick and sulked.

Jemma patted his hand from across the table.

Still quietly chuckling, Sousa gathered up his lunch dishes, trying to remember what he had planned to do after this . . .

“Chief!”

The cry was urgent, and Sousa spun his head around, already reaching for his crutches. 

Adler hurried toward them, waving a tablet in the air. “We got her!”

.

.

.

Intruder alert. Seriously?

Daniel knew they had to increase their security. But at this moment, he didn’t care. 

Because they had found her.

Sixteen months. Sixteen agonizing, emotional months he had spent kicking himself, searching every single radio wave he could find, almost giving up more times than he could count. Sixteen months of putting poor  MacAuley through the wringer since she had the most natural detective skills. Sixteen months of recovery, both mental and physical, adjusting to his new normal without  _ her . . . _

And that seed of doubt she’d unknowingly planted in his mind . . . that maybe not everyone was who they seemed. 

She’d sent him on a wild goose chase in more ways than one.

And now she had the  _ audacity _ to show up right at his doorstep?

Unbelievable.

He hurried faster, wishing he’d worn his prosthetic. 

There was already a commotion at the hangar door, and he felt a blast of cold air rush through the hallways. 

A group of agents blocked his view.

“Out of the way,” he ordered, and they parted like the red sea. 

He caught a glimpse of white . . . A snow-covered head.

“Rand, what the  _ hell _ do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Let her go.”

Agent Rand stepped back as if shocked, and the figure he’d been handcuffing whirled to face him.

Sousa’s breath caught in his throat. He stopped. “Daisy.”

Her smile lit up the whole hallway. “Hey, Chief.”

.

.

.

“ So you just . . .  _ stayed gone?”  _

Sousa couldn’t sit down. His crutches creaked and thumped across the floor. White walls surrounded him . . . suffocated him.

“I don’t know what else to say.” Daisy had her knees pulled up to her chin, and Daniel tried not to look too closely at her dark brown eyes, or he might lose his train of thought. 

“It’s been a  _ year, _ Agent Johnson. You’ve been AWOL for a  _ year. _ As your commanding officer, I really should punish you for just that. I bet there’s a court martial with your name on it.”

He swiveled around and clunked back toward the door, then let out a  _ huff  _ of breath. “And also, as your partner—”

“We’re not partners anymore.” 

Sousa stopped.

Turned his head to stare down at her.

Opened his mouth to continue . . . but closed it again.

And he finally noticed her sunken, dark-rimmed eyes. 

She had put on a cheerful front in the hallway, surrounded by almost every agent in the Playground, but now . . . she looked so small and vulnerable, perched on the white couch. 

“So that’s it,” Daniel asked quietly. “You come back, why? To tell me that it’s just over? All the good we’ve done here. All the agents we trained. All the progress we’ve made—” He swept a hand around the room, meaning the whole base. “We’re SHIELD 101, Daisy. You’re just throwing that away? And now . . . You’ve been keeping quiet this whole time—there’s something you’re not telling me.  _ What are you not telling me? _ ”

“We just . . .” she began, and stared at her hands. “No. It’s just—” she took a breath, “—You have no idea what I’ve been through. Honestly. I do need to tell you . . . everything.”

He waited.

She pulled her sleeves further down to her fingers. “But not yet.”

Daniel closed his eyes. Took a breath.

Daisy continued, motioning toward his leg, “I want to hear about y—”

“You can have this room for the night,” he said, fighting with every ounce of his strength not to lash out in anger.

“ So you’re locking me up now?” Daisy jumped to her feet. “Like a  _ prisoner?”  _

Sousa stood in the doorway and looked back at her, every muscle in his body feeling like he’d just run a marathon. Except he’d ran many marathons in his life . . . and this was worse. “I’ll have Parker bring you dinner. Goodnight, Agent Johnson.”

The door closed . . . blocking out her last word.  _ “Daniel—” _

.

.

.

When Daniel Sousa was eighteen years old, he thought he was in love.

He had spent the summer counseling pre-teen boys at a summer camp in the Idaho mountains.

The camp was divided into two parts. The girl’s side was strictly off-limits, but he would meet Violet at the huge pine tree that served as a middle-marker. At midnight, when their campers were asleep, they would sit against that tree, holding hands, and dreaming about the future. They would talk about everything . . . and nothing. 

The whole summer, he floated on air.

When saw Violet, his heart would race. When she smiled at him, a ray of blonde sunlight, he could see his whole future in her eyes.

But summer had to come to an end, and she moved back to Montana. 

And he learned that love was fragile.

When Daniel Sousa was thirty-six years old, he thought he was in love.

But love, in its fragility, had kicked his feet out from under him and left him breathless on the stone-cold floor. 

When he closed that door and walked away, leaving Daisy behind him, hot fury boiled up in his chest. Not at her (he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at her), but at love.

At horrible, fragile, unreliable human emotions. 

He leaned against a wall, in the darkest hallway he could find, sank to the floor, closed his eyes . . . and choked back a sob. 

.

.

.


	6. tell me, where did you go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well . . . the plot thickens! :)

_._

_._

_._

“Twenty, sir?” Agent Davis’ voice echoed through the adjoining room, and Sousa lifted his head, interest piqued. 

“Yes sir,” Davis continued. “I’ll tell him right away. The squad the Chief started training—” some papers shuffled, “—six years ago. They’re fully capable and ready to ship out right away. They’ve been running small ground missions, but they’re ready.” 

There was a long pause. 

Davis cleared his throat. “There’s been a . . . development. I’ll let him tell you. Later?” 

Another pause. 

“Yes, sir. We’ll be in touch. Thank you, Director.” 

The phone clicked, and Davis let out a long sigh.

“He wants a team, Chief,” he called. 

Sousa rubbed his eyes and collected his crutches. “Good. It’s about time. Did he say why?” 

“Not exactly.” Davis handed him a few scribbled notes and crossed his arms. “He had to go, but he wants to talk to you in person soon. Very soon.” 

. 

. 

. 

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“I can give you all the answers, to everything. That’s why I came back.” Daisy gripped her opposite elbows. The carved-out wall dug into her back. “Just let me talk to him.” 

Fitz sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. “I told you. It’s his choice.” 

Daisy slapped the wall and shoved herself away from it, where she had been leaning. It had been three days since she returned. Three days in this pure white room . . . Three days wondering if he would ever show his face again. 

“Remember the exploding man in the forest?” she pressed. “The glowing letters in the cave? The file about inhumans? All that weird . . . crap. That we couldn’t explain.” 

Nodding, Fitz stared at the floor. 

“I have answers for _everything,”_ Daisy continued, “I just need to have some . . . time. Alone with him, otherwise I can't . . .” 

“There’s another thing,” Jemma interjected. “I assume he didn’t tell you.” 

Fitz elbowed her in the side. The only three people that knew about the missiles with the SHIELD logos, that destroyed Area 51, were Fitzsimmons and Sousa. And the chief had specifically forbidden them from spreading that piece of information. It couldn’t be proven—it hung on Fitz’s word, and while that was enough for Daniel and Jemma to believe it, they had to solve the mystery first—and so they kept it between them. 

And Jemma knew that. “We lost Area 51,” she admitted. 

Daisy nodded. “I know.” 

Something twisted itself into Fitz’s chest. A hint of something . . . dark. He would have called it doubt, but it went deeper than that. He drew his eyebrows together. “How could you possibly know that?” 

If she had been separated from SHIELD, there was no way to gather that intel. No citizen even knew what was past the borders of Area 51, much less had up-to-date knowledge of the happenings there. 

Daisy opened her mouth . . . then shut it again. “I . . . Um . . .” She crossed her arms. “That’s why I need to talk to Da— To Sousa.” 

“What do you need to tell just him that you can’t tell us?” A trace of bitterness crept into Fitz’s voice, and it surprised him. His friend was back from the dead after a whole year, and he was . . . frustrated? It didn’t make sense. “I thought we were a team.” 

There was something off about this whole situation. 

“I’m sorry, guys.” Daisy sat heavily onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. “I thought this was going to go differently . . . I don’t like it either.” 

And suddenly it clicked. 

Fitz blinked. 

She was under orders. 

He glanced sharply to his right, meeting Jemma’s wide, almost-panicked eyes. 

Of course. 

Why else would she hide so much important information for so long? 

The Daisy they both knew would have spilled every single piece of intel she had, the moment she walked onto the base. 

And on that same topic . . . How did she know where the base was in the first place? 

“Daisy . . .” Jemma began slowly, her voice filled with careful firmness. “Who—” she swallowed, “—Who are you working for?” 

Daisy’s shoulders tensed. She looked up, her hair falling around her face. Her hands froze in mid-air next to her cheeks. Something flashed through her eyes, but it solidified into what looked like determination and honesty. 

“SHIELD,” she said. 

. 

. 

. 

Daniel just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“She’s hiding something,” Jemma insisted. “She’ll tell you.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “She’s hiding _everything_ ,” he countered. “If she won’t tell you two, how do I know she’ll talk to me?” 

“She kept asking for you.” Fitz’s voice was muffled by his arms and the table. 

Exhaustion fell heavily onto the kitchen. It was almost palpable, and Sousa wondered how much sleep Fitzsimmons had managed to get over the last three days. 

If they were in any state similar to his own, he would have bet less than eight hours, total. 

He didn’t answer Fitz’s comment. 

The walls of the Playground sucked him in. 

The seemingly endless brick reminded him of the training room at the Area 51 base . . . Where things had been different. 

Things had been good. 

He had a team. He had a training program that he had built himself, and agents to prove that it worked. 

And he had his partner. 

Not some reluctant, mysterious runaway. He had _the_ Agent Daisy Johnson by his side, running circles around him (sometimes literally), pouring all her knowledge and experience into the recruits, just like he always did. She was his sparring partner, his confidante, his other half. His life had felt so empty for those sixteen months. He had felt like a shell of his past self, and now . . . he had her back again. 

But somehow this was worse. 

“I can’t . . .” He closed his eyes. “I need some air.” 

. 

As a child in Idaho, Daniel often played in the snow. He and his father lived at the base of a mountain, in a nice little valley. The wind would blow the snow away again after about a day, but he had always enjoyed it while it lasted. 

The blizzard at the Playground had left drifts upon drifts of snow all around the base, and for the first time in the last year, Daniel silently thanked Fitzsimmons for this fully-functional prosthetic leg. 

He stepped over a smaller drift, drawing in deep, stuttering breaths of icy-cold air. 

“Interesting place to choose for a meeting,” a voice interrupted the blessed silence. 

Daniel whirled around, hand automatically snapping to his hip. 

He released his breath. 

“Sir. I’m sorry, I . . .” he checked his watch. “I forgot you were flying in today. Must have lost track of time.” 

Coulson waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve had a lot on your plate.” 

“Fitzsimmons caught you up?” 

Nodding, Coulson crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the nearest tree. He gazed out past Sousa, at the huge expanse of white. “I wanted to talk to you about the squad you’re sending me, but . . . sounds like there might be more important issues right now.” 

Daniel clenched his jaw. Swallowed. “She has information that we need, sir. I just can’t . . . Can’t bring myself to talk to her. I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve known you for six years, Chief. You know what I’ve noticed in all that time?” 

Daniel knew a stern, fatherly lecture when he heard one. But there was also a side to Coulson’s voice that was anything but angry. He seemed apologetic, almost. Comforting, if he dared to think it. 

“No, sir.” 

Coulson pushed himself away from the tree and stood squarely in front of Sousa, his head tilted and his eyes piercing. “You don’t give up on your team.” 

Something wedged itself into Daniel’s chest. It hurt. 

“I don’t need to talk to Fitzsimmons to know you’re struggling with this,” Coulson continued. “If I need to bring her to headquarters and interrogate her, I will. But I trust you. You know your duty. You know what’s expected of you. You, of all people—” he placed a firm hand onto Daniel’s shoulder, “—should know that no matter what happened in the past, whether she betrayed your trust or not . . . You are still a team. You always will be. And good leaders like you and Davis and Adler . . . strong leaders. They won’t let their current situation get in the way of their duty. You are an agent of SHIELD. And SHIELD is counting on you. I’m counting on you. Understood?” 

With startling clarity, it clicked. 

Sousa’s eyes snapped to the Director’s, and he nodded sharply. “Understood.” He hesitated for a second, turning halfway toward the base, then glancing back at Coulson. “Fitzsimmons and Davis can debrief you on everything and show you around. I’ll introduce the squad later, I just . . . know what I need to do, and I have to do it . . . now.” 

And before he whirled around again to march back into the dark Playground, he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on Coulson’s face. 

. 

. 

. 

Daniel raised a hand as soon as he stepped through the door. “Stop. I’m talking now.” 

Sitting back down, Daisy stared up at him, questioning. 

He took a deep breath. “The only reason I’m here is because you have answers. The Director needs them, and I need them, so I’m willing to listen to what you have to say. But stay on track. No extras, no long stories.” 

Daisy pursed her lips . . . but nodded. “Okay. But you might want to sit down.” 

. 

. 

. 

_August 11_ _th_ _, 2019_

. 

_The last thing Daisy remembered was hot sand beneath her fingers._

_The sight of Daniel’s broken body on the rocky cliff . . ._

_And despair._

_When she woke up, the world spun._

_And she couldn’t see clearly._

_It was a wash of brown and red and black . . ._

_She felt something rough beneath her shoulders and a pounding in her head._

_“It’s good to see you awake,” a voice invaded her ears._

_It ricocheted around her skull like a stray bullet._

_Her mouth wouldn’t open. Her eyes snapped around the room, willing the blurriness to go away. She didn’t_ _recognize ._ _. ._

_Where was she?_

_A face came into view, and she flinched. The man had kind eyes, she noticed. Was he extremely tall, or was she . . ._ _Oh._ _She was laying down._

_“Try to relax,” the man continued._

_As the room gained some clarity, so did Daisy’s mind. “Where . . .” she whispered. Where was she? Who was he? But most importantly . . . “Where’s Daniel?”_

_The man was silent, and Daisy clenched her hands. A stone settled in her chest._

. 

. 

. 

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“This has nothing to do with Hydra, or inhumans, or anything else you said you had answers for.” Sousa stared up at the corner of the room, less angry now, but still feeling that familiar ache in his throat. 

“It does,” Daisy insisted. “Just let me tell you.” 

She took a breath and continued, “They knew you survived, but they kept it from me for _weeks._ When they told me what happened, they said they didn’t know you were alive at the time.” 

. 

. 

. 

_August 13_ _th_ _, 2019_

_._

_“Will you finally tell me where I am? And what the_ hell _happened to Sousa? You know everything apparently, so tell me—” she separated out her words with a fury, “—is — he — alive?”_

_Daisy had been stuck in the same room for two days straight, and she was about to break._

_The man who had been there when she woke up was named Mack, and he tried to soothe her . . . in his own way._

_‘Just the mechanic,’ he had called himself._

_A woman came to take Daisy’s vitals, glared at her for a while, asked her to perform a series of movements, nodded curtly, and left. ‘That’s Darren,’ Mack had said. ‘She doesn’t talk much.’_

_All this meant absolutely nothing to Daisy, and she couldn’t have cared less. Her fingers buzzed with nervous energy._

_“I can’t tell you,” Mack said. “It’s under wraps until the Director gives the order.”_

_“You guys and your secrets.” She pounded a fist against the bed. She would have tried to break out of her restraints, but there was almost always someone in the room with her. So inconvenient._

_She resorted to interrogation._

_But these people wouldn’t crack._

_._

_._

_._

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“It took me a solid week,” Daisy said. “I got them to tell me bits and pieces before that, though. Mack and his partner Joey had been in the cave at the same time we were, tracking down the same lead as us. But the difference was, they had been there before.” She paused. “Remember those markings on the wall that we saw, right before they grabbed you?” 

Sousa nodded. 

“And remember how they lit up?” Daisy leaned forward, elbows on her knees. 

He nodded again. 

“I had been seeing those same markings,” she said. “In visions. Dreams. The one time I collapsed on the desk, I was having some sort of . . .” she waved a hand in the air, “premonition. Maybe. Still haven’t figured it out. 

“But those markings on the wall, apparently,” she continued, “they glow when a specific type of person touches them.” 

Daisy watched the gears turn in Sousa’s mind. She was quiet for a second, to let him think. 

“And you had your hands all over the wall.” 

She nodded. “Right. And you never touched it. Mack saw that. He was watching us from across the hallway.” 

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Creepy.” 

“Yeah.” 

“But . . .” Daniel squinted, deep in thought. “What does that have to do with . . .” 

“Because,” she cut in, then stopped for a second. Took a breath. “I’m an inhuman.” 

He blinked. 

Daisy smiled. “Mack and Joey knew. By the markings. They tracked me down after the goons from the cave dragged you away. When I found you, and you collapsed . . . I blacked out. They fought off the thugs, saved both our lives, apparently, but the wind had picked up and they didn’t see you laying there.” 

. 

. 

. 

_August 20_ _th_ _, 2019_

_._

_“The hell is terrigenesis?”_

_Darren folded her hands on the table. “It’s the process in which an inhuman—” she extended one hand to the right, “—changes form. Becomes . . . more.” She clasped her hands together, then separated them, and a glowing light stared Daisy in the face._

_“_ _So_ _you guys . . . want me to do this. Terrigenesis. Thing? And trust you, just like that?”_

_Darren raised an eyebrow. “Kinda your destiny.” She re-clasped her hands, extinguishing the light, then laid them flat on the table, palms down. “And if you decide not to, the Director will use . . . alternative measures.”_

_Her mouth hanging open, Daisy sat back in her chair, as if pushed. “That means by force. You do realize, that means by force, right?”_

_The other woman shrugged. Brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “We all did it. It’s not that bad.”_

_._

_._

_._

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“You didn’t do it, right?” Sousa’s eyebrows drew together. 

She pursed her lips and glanced to the side. “I did.” 

“ _Daisy,”_ he scolded, fear lacing his voice. “That was reckless and stupid, and you barely knew _—”_

“But it worked.” 

His mouth hung open. “Sorry, what?” 

Daisy drew her mouth into what looked like a grimace. “Worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but . . .” 

She extended a hand and aimed her palm at the table. 

The dishes began to rattle. 

Sousa jumped backward, bracing himself on the couch. 

His eyes darted back and forth between the clanking dishes and his former partner. 

“No way,” he muttered. 

. 

. 

. 

_November 2_ _nd_ _, 2019_

_._

_Daisy sat heavily onto the bench. It rocked back and forth, and if she had fallen onto her back, she wouldn’t have cared._

_“You’re doing better,” Joey said. “Remember your first day?”_

_“Yeah, when I took a whole building down on you guys?” Daisy rolled her eyes._

_Joey smiled. “Baby steps, Daisy.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_They were quiet for a while, staring out at the vast, open landscape. A few mountains dotted the horizon, and some rivers and trees ran through the valley._

_It was a beautiful sight, and she would have enjoyed it, but . . ._

_“I need to get back to my team,” she said quietly._

_Joey tilted his head and glanced sideways. “I know. But there’s . . . Something I need to tell you first. And it might change your mind.”_

_He took a breath._

_“This organization,” he continued, “isn’t what it seems. We thought maybe a fresh pair of eyes could help us out.”_

_Another pause. Daisy could almost feel his nervousness._

_“We’ve been . . .” Joey cleared his throat. “We’ve been infiltrated. By Hydra.”_

_._

_._

_._

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

. 

“The only people that were actively fighting it in the shadows were Mack, Joey, and Darren,” Daisy explained. “Mack’s not an inhuman, he’s just a consultant. So they needed one more person on their team, to start taking it down from the inside out. They chose me, apparently.” 

Sousa didn’t say anything for a long time. 

She had been right all along . . . 

About Hydra, about inhumans, everything. 

And in his misery and confusion and pain, he had doubted her gut. 

Doubted her instincts. 

That was a mistake he would never make again. 

No matter where she was. 

“But,” he started. “Where . . . what was that place, anyway? Not SHIELD?” 

Daisy sighed. “This is the hardest part to explain.” She ran her hands over her face and let out a long, long breath. 

“No,” she said. “Not _this_ SHIELD. They call it the Real SHIELD.” 

_._

_._

_._

_February 11_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

_“Any updates, Johnson?”_

_Daisy stopped and let Mack catch up with her. “Not yet.”_

_The hallways twisted around, this way and that._

_Their footsteps echoed._

_“I need to go back,” she said. “It’s been way, way too long. And Gonzalez won’t even let me send a message.”_

_Mack rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I know.”_

_“We’re no closer to finding the source,” she added. “I have everything I need, and now . . . I just need my team. They’ll be able to help me.”_

_Mack didn’t answer._

_._

_._

_._

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“But why didn’t you just leave?” Daniel interrupted. “You’re a skilled agent . . . what stopped you?” 

Daisy hung her head and stared at the floor. “I don’t know.” 

The room went silent. 

Sousa couldn’t think of anything more to say. 

That raw wound in his heart split a little more. 

“I guess,” Daisy began slowly, “that’s what stopped me.” 

He tilted his head. 

“Because I’m an agent. And there’s the new threat . . . Hydra. I have to protect SHIELD. I have a duty to protect all of you—” she swept a hand in a wide gesture, “ _—_ and I needed to know more about . . . everything. Mack was a _treasure trove_ of information. He had records and files that we could only dream about. Even if Coulson does have Peggy’s toolbox. I can tell you why Area 51 was bombed. It was Hydra. Posing as SHIELD. Just like countless other tragedies that I bet you never even heard about."

She paused.

"I wanted to have all the tools I needed before I came back, and by last Christmas, I did. I was done. I had been trained with my new powers; I had a tiny hard drive with everything I would need to root out Hydra from the top.” 

She stopped, and finally met Daniel’s eyes. 

“But the time was just never right. I couldn’t get out just like that. For ‘no reason,’ according to Gonzalez. And also . . .” she took a breath, “We needed a plan first.” 

“And it took you a _year_ to come up with one?” Daniel was incredulous. 

“Not exactly. There was something we needed first.” 

. 

. 

. 

_November 21_ _st_ _, 2020_

_._

_“Johnson, you know your mission. You have four weeks to prep, so make sure you do.”_

_Daisy nodded shortly, and Darren continued._

_“This will be the single most important thing we’ve ever done. Remember the day: January twentieth. The signal is set to go out, and all Hydra sleepers will try to take down SHIELD. Both SHIELDs. We have to work together to overcome this. Understood?”_

_Everyone nodded._

_“We can’t rely on the Real SHIELD anymore. As far as we know, everyone is Hydra. Just assume, until proven otherwise. Daisy—” The older woman turned, and it felt like her dark eyes were piercing Daisy’s very soul. “Stick to the plan. And do not let us down.”_

_._

_._

_._

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

“So that’s it.” 

"Oh no," Daisy shook her head. “There’s so much more. There are files I brought back, intel to go over, plans to make . . . and I _promise you,_ this will work. We had a year to plan. And we did.” 

She stared at Sousa with all the desperation she felt, imploring him to understand. 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

He rubbed his right knee. 

Buried his face in his left hand. 

Heaved a sigh. 

“Okay.” 

Daisy sat up, straight as a pin. 

Daniel continued, “I believe you.” 

She almost didn’t trust her ears. “What?” 

“You show me all that intel you have, explain why you felt the need to stay there a full extra year, _and_ prove to me that what you’re saying is true . . .” He stood up slowly. “And I’ll work on trusting you again.” 

He gestured to the door, and Daisy sprung to her feet, wanting to laugh and hug him and tell him how much she’d missed all of them . . . but she thought better of it, and settled for a handshake. 

“Oh, and Daisy,” he said, the tiniest hint of smile playing at his lips. “It’s really good to have you back.” 

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	7. in every window I pass, your reflection in the glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for it, so I had to deliver! It's not the longest ever, but we've got the plot going. Woohoo! Also . . . I couldn't help myself. (You'll see what I mean 😏 )  
> Enjoy!!

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_ December 21 _ _ st _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

Rehab still  sucked.

Even after more than a year since his surgery, and after technically being cleared for field work, Sousa’s doctors wouldn’t let him quit physical therapy. 

If he’d been any other person, they would have cleared him from therapy seven months ago , b ut of course, being a secret agent and all, he had to be at peak performance. And rehab was the most tedious thing he’d ever done.

“This looks awful.” 

Daniel’s head snapped around to the door and set down the tension band he’d been using.

Jemma followed Daisy into the training room, holding a few medical devices and a tablet. The nervous wrinkling of Daisy’s eyebrows made Sousa pause.

“How are the exercises going, Chief?” Jemma asked, motioning to his right leg.

“Horrible.”

Simmons pursed her lips and stared him down. She could be very intimidating when she tried. Daniel flinched.

“Better than last week,” he amended, and stretched out his right leg. 

Daisy kept her distance, standing on the mat with her arms crossed, and watched Jemma kneel down to begin testing range of motion and strength in his prosthetic, and to check circulation in his leg stump. 

Her eyebrows drew together.

Daniel swallowed nervously. 

When he’d lost his leg, he swore it wouldn’t define him. Granted, it was a sharp curve in the road of his life, but he wanted to remain positive. (Maybe he failed, but he gave it a good shot.)

The rest of the team didn’t treat him any differently. The cadets were always a bit nervous (silently), but Adler and  MacAuley and Fitzsimmons never saw him as less than he used to be. And for that, he was infinitely grateful. 

Now, seeing Daisy’s nervous and awkward expression . . . he wondered what she was thinking. If she saw him as broken. Not the agent he used to be. 

He wondered if she thought she could still trust him.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” he asked Jemma quickly, trying to brush those thoughts away.

Simmons shook her head. “Fitz and I . . . We decided being here was more important.”

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. 

He leaned back against the wall and smirked. “I guess we’ll all be stuck here together, then. Just like old times.”

“It’ll be fun,” Jemma agreed with a smile.

He could have ordered everyone to stay. As Chief, he had that right. And according to the new information Daisy had brought with, he would need all the agents he could get.

But, then again . . . a change of pace might give new clarity to some situations.

And who was he to deny his team some relaxation?

After all, he’d still have over thirty agents who decided to stay over the week. And everyone else would be a phone call away, if needed.

He glanced up.

Daisy’s eyes were fixed on the wall to Daniel’s left. 

The room was quiet while Simmons worked. She made him perform a few movements while sitting, then while walking and running on the treadmill. The whole time, Daisy’s eyes switched between the wall and the pair at work. 

It wasn’t like her to stay so silent.

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_ December 22 _ _ nd _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

Daisy strode down the hallway, trailing behind Sousa and Davis.

“Came back affirmative,” Davis said. “ MacAuley just flew in with the asset.” He glanced back at Daisy and smiled. “Thanks to Johnson’s intel.”

Breathing a sigh,  she trotted to catch up with the men. She had forgotten their habits of walking inhumanly fast through the hallways. “Can I say I told you so?”

“Maybe,” Daniel replied, a hint of a grin lighting up his face. 

The rush of joy that punched itself into Daisy’s chest shocked her. She was gaining back his trust. Slowly. Surely. She smiled back up at him, and suddenly realized how much she’d missed seeing those warm, wise eyes every day . . .

Honestly, she’d missed her whole team.

So much.

They walked a few paces, and Davis excused himself. “Have to go help Parker with that package,” he said, and disappeared into the next doorway. 

A few beats of silence invaded Daisy’s ears, and questions buzzed through her mind.

Daniel was quiet, staring straight ahead as he walked.

“So . . .” she began, trying to frame the question the right way. “You never said what happened . . . I mean, why—” she gestured at his leg.

He took a sharp intake of breath. “Right. Guess I should explain.” 

So the story spilled out. How he’d taken three shotgun blasts to his calf and knee, and not even SHIELD’s best doctors could save the remains. He’d bled out too much . . . was on the brink of death when they found him. 

How Jemma had thought he actually was dead, but got him into a hyperbaric chamber in the nick of time.

He told her about the infection that set in so quickly, and the sand they couldn’t clean out of his wound.

And how he’d woken up to find that he’d lost not just his leg . . . but his teammate, too.

How he wasn’t sure which was worse.

Daisy stared at the ground. “I’m sorry,” she almost whispered, “I’m never leaving again."

Sousa stopped walking and grabbed her elbow , firm and yet somehow gentle . “Don’t . . . don’t make promises you can’t keep, Daisy.”

She glanced up sharply, meeting his eyes. Trying to decipher the depth of emotion there . . . And it was completely hopeless. 

“When we signed up for this job,” he continued, releasing her arm, “we signed up to lose each other. To get close to people, and then . . . Sometimes they’re taken away. That’s life. I should’ve figured it out sooner, but . . . I guess I couldn’t see it . . . I couldn’t be objective before. And I’m sorry.” He clenched his jaw. 

Paused.

Took a breath. “But we all signed up to lose a part of ourselves—every one of us. Whatever that looks like.”

Something pierced Daisy’s chest as she absorbed his words. Her arm tingled where his hand had been. And as she stared up into his dark, honest, tired eyes, she thought she could see . . . something different. Something that frightened her a little . . .

She didn’t say anything. 

Couldn’t say anything. 

The moment that passed felt like an eternity. 

Her gaze broke from his, and she took in the deep, expressive lines on his forehead, the dark circles under his eyes, the kind, trusting, guarded, sad smile tugging at his mouth . . .

Finally, he sighed. “We should get back to the lab and go over those files with Fitzsimmons.”

“Right,” she said quickly. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath, nodded, and fell into step beside him again.

.

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.

_ December 23 _ _ rd _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

“It’s  _ bad,”  _ Daisy insisted. She dropped the folder she was holding. “Hydra is  _ very bad.” _

Fitz pursed his lips and swiped away another file. “Yes, I know.”

“Then why don’t you believe me?”

“Because,” Jemma said, running a hand through her hair. “Because we did hours and hours and  _ hours _ of research on it already, and found nothing. You left that hard drive, remember?”

Daisy stopped. 

Her mouth dropped open. “You . . . You saved it? Before the base blew?”

Fitzsimmons glanced quickly at each other, sharing a look.

“Yeah,” Fitz said, eyebrows drawing together. “It was important, so . . .”

“No, that’s great,” Daisy said quickly. “Seriously, I owe you—”

The door slammed open.

All three agents leapt to their feet, watching as Adler barged into the lab, eyes wide. He held onto the door. “Guys,” he said, either excited or panicked . . . Daisy couldn’t tell. “Suit up. We got something.”

.

“The Hub sent out an SOS signal,” Adler explained as the team hurried down the hallway. “Five minutes ago. The Director’s calling an emergency meeting.”

When they burst into the briefing room, roughly fifteen agents were already gathered around the wall-sized screen. Daisy’s eyes snapped around the room, taking in the glowing blue map, the blinking dots on said map, Sousa's concerned expression, Davis’s nervous pacing, and Coulson's quick, concise words as he started debriefing the team.

“What happened?” Daisy placed herself beside Daniel and crossed her arms, trying to make sense of the map in front of her. 

He pursed his lips. “You tell me. We got a clear SOS signal from the Hub, a few times. Stopped for five minutes, and now it’s coming in again. We’re trying to get a visual on it right now.”

Daisy swiveled herself around, sat down at the nearest computer, and began typing madly. “Let me try. Joey showed me a few tricks to . . .” 

One of the screens flickered, and a blurry, black-and-white image appeared. A few people ran through the screen, hauling rifles, dressed in full tac gear.

“. . . hack into security feeds,” Daisy finished.

Daniel gave her a pointed side-eye, but he smiled.

Fitz planted himself at the computer beside Daisy and began scrolling furiously through the camera feeds. 

“Eyes up!” Sousa shouted as more agents trickled in and stood at attention. “The Hub is under attack. We don’t know why, or by what, but they called for our help. So we’re going to answer. Be ready to ship out in one hour. Davis, you’ll take Strike Team Echo and two  quinjets . Stay in the air when you reach the Hub and wait for further instructions.”

Davis nodded sharply and jogged out, followed by fourteen agents.

“Fitzsimmons,” Sousa continued, “stay here with Adler’s squad and run point.”

Jemma’s pale face was set like stone. “Yes, sir.”

Daniel glanced around the room. “Johnson, MacAuley, and Strike Team Charlie. You’re with me and the Director.” 

He paused. 

“Zephyr’s wheels up in forty minutes.”

.

They were about to fly into a war zone, but Daisy was almost giddy.

Just nerves, she told herself. It was just nerves.

Her boots thumped heavily onto the Zephyr’s loading dock, and she heaved a duffel bag onto one of the jump seats. The holsters at her hips were heavy and familiar . . . Almost comforting. She  _ clicked _ one of the ICERs into place, checked her boot laces, and patted the side of her cargo pants. Good . . . her pair of knives were right where she left them.

A pair of footsteps approached, and another duffel bag  _ thunked _ onto a jump seat. 

“Good to be back, right?” Daniel grinned.

“You mean facing certain death? Small chance of success?” Daisy raised her eyebrows and pulled the strap tight on her bulletproof vest. “Of course.”

Daniel shrugged his own vest over his head and met Daisy’s eyes. “Hey now. We’ve both been through worse.”

“I don’t know,” she countered. “Been a while since we’ve run a mission together. And you haven’t been in the field since . . .” She stopped. Cleared her throat. “Anything could happen.”

Daisy almost jumped in shock when Sousa let out a snort. 

“Right,” he said, “you know, my leg could fall off.”

Her eyes opened  wide, this time actually shocked.

Was he teasing?

She glanced to the side and met his sparkling, mischievous eyes.

“What? No, I didn’t mean—” she started, wanting to defend herself.

“Or your fancy new powers could take the building down on us,” he continued, unaffected by her backpedaling. He opened the action on his handgun, checked the barrel,  _ snapped _ in a magazine, then strapped it to the holster on his hip. 

“Right, right . . .” she faltered, digging for something to say. Their banter should have been easy as always, but she froze when he flashed that stupid  _ gotcha  _ grin at her. 

“You know . . .” He just couldn’t give it up, apparently. “Speaking of those new powers of yours . . . If you’re going to be a superhero, don’t you need a superhero name?”

She opened her mouth, unable to even process what was going on.

“Something  like . . . Earthquake?” He continued, having  _ way  _ too much fun with this. “Quake? That’s catchy.”

“Oh no, you are not calling me—”

“Quake?” He finished strapping his gloves on, and looked up again, barely able to contain his mirth. “I think it’s a great name.”

“Sure, sure, of course it is,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Yeah, good idea. Why don’t you make fun of the person who could  _ literally _ —” she poked his shoulder, “—turn you to dust.”

He stumbled backwards and glanced back up with sparkling eyes. “Yeah, yeah . . . you can quake me. No, I get it.” 

She tilted her head, smirked, and wondered what the  _ hell  _ had happened. For three days he wouldn’t even consider talking to her, even said he didn’t know how he could trust her anymore . . . and now he was . . . flirting? 

What?

It occurred to her (like a roundhouse kick to the stomach) how much she really had missed him. 

She’d missed their banter, their easy friendship. 

And having that back was like the clouds had split and let the sun shine through again. 

But now, being back after so long . . . there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on . . . That she had blamed on just not seeing him for sixteen months. But it lingered, even after a week being back. She had missed seeing those dark, warm eyes every day. She had missed the way he was never too far away, always ready to talk, or spar, or offer encouragement. The way he had her back during every mission. The way they worked so  _ damn well _ together, as a team. Like they were born to work together. 

The way he looked at her like she was the center of the universe . . .

“Wheels up in five,” Parker’s voice crackled through the intercom, and Daisy whirled around, startled out of her thoughts.

Daniel cleared his throat and heaved the duffel bag onto his shoulder. “Better buckle up . . . Quake.”

Oh, that wasn’t going away anytime soon, was it?

Daisy took a breath to respond, but snapped her mouth shut and rolled her eyes instead. She watched him walk through the doors to the lab, her eyes lingering on the back of his neck, then taking in his broad shoulders . . . and for whatever reason, noticed the way his combat boots tapped the floor, cargo pants tucked neatly into them . . .

She couldn’t wait to get into some real combat again.

She really needed to punch something.

.

_. _

_. _

Daniel held his breath.

He begged his feet to stay silent, hoping the rubber soles of his boots wouldn’t crunch the snow too much. 

Glancing through the doorway, he nodded and raised a hand, waving his team along. 

Fifteen figures jogged past him, rifles raised and visors down. Daniel fell into step behind Daisy.

“Just like old times, huh?” Daisy whispered through her radio.

“Except that the Hub is on fire and we’re literally infiltrating our own base?” he countered. “Sure.”

He didn’t have to see Daisy’s face to picture her smirk.

The door slammed behind him, and the team was plunged into darkness. Sousa reached up and flicked on the headlamp attached to his helmet. “Fitz, see anything?” he hissed. 

His radio crackled. “This one’s clear, sir. Next doorway on your left, though—I count twenty men.”

“Copy that.”

At the front of the group, Coulson stopped in his tracks. 

“Everything okay, Director?” Daisy asked, pressing her back against the stone wall.

He held a finger up to his lips and jerked his head to the side. “On my mark,” he whispered, raising his hand, fingers spread out . . . then lowered his little finger. And his ring finger. 

Sousa clutched his rifle tighter, head buzzing with adrenaline.

When Coulson closed his fist, all hell broke loose. 

With a burst of speed, MacAuley ran ahead of him, leaned back, gave a mighty  _ kick _ , and sent the door flying off its hinges. 

All fifteen agents swarmed through the doorway, rifles aimed at anything and everything.

“Everyone, show me your hands!” Sousa shouted. 

His eyes frantically scanned the room . . . 

And saw twenty gun barrels aimed at their heads.

_ Shit. _

_ “Lower your weapons,” _ Coulson yelled. "We have you surrounded!" 

No one moved.

Sousa didn't breathe.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (but was really only a split second), the figure in the center of the room obeyed him, but not because of his order.

Her eyes were fixed on the person next to him.

The stranger removed her helmet.

Daisy gasped.

“Darren?”

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	8. and my time, i fear, is nearly over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, look at that! An update!  
> I'm SO excited to share this chapter with all of you-- It was so much fun to write, and I'm even more pumped to share the next one, because of this one. LOL
> 
> Enjoy!

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_ December 23 _ _ rd _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

If there was one thing Daniel Sousa’s friends would describe him as, any one of them would have said loyal. 

In general, the trait served him well. While he tried to be discerning and to take everything with a grain of salt, he would readily admit he was generally trusting and open . . . and he would do anything for his friends and teammates. He couldn’t imagine being any other way. 

During his time in the army, he’d known a man named Jack Thompson. They had shipped out to Iraq together, slept in the same tiny, cramped barracks, trained together, and for all intents and purposes, they were a team. But a very important aspect of their relationship was failing: Trust. 

The catch, however . . . was that Sousa had no choice but to trust Thompson. They were both US Army soldiers. They were in it together. They had to trust each other, just by the nature of their jobs. But Sousa never had much respect for Thompson, and vice versa. They worked well together, were generally competitive in a good way, and kept each other on their toes. But the uneasiness of not being able to trust his companion grated on Sousa’s nerves every day. He hadn’t seen the man since he joined SHIELD . . .  And it went to show how little Thompson thought of his former teammate.

And now . . . At Daisy’s frantic exclamation, the same familiar stone sank into the pit of his stomach. But not for the reason he had thought it would . . .

Because he recognized this scene. This interaction between Daisy and this woman she had called her teammate. Unfortunately, he could guess how she was feeling.

And he could already tell what was about to go down. 

The woman named Darren pulled off her helmet. 

“Oh, hey Daisy,” she said . . . far too nonchalantly. 

Sousa risked a glance to the right to watch Daisy’s reaction. 

She was livid.

“Darren, what the  _ hell _ are you doing here?”

The tall, stone-faced woman raised her hand, and all the guns aiming at Sousa’s team lowered reluctantly. The twenty men took a step back. Sousa motioned for his team to follow suit.

Darren raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“No,” Daisy insisted, taking a step forward. Her voice was dangerously tight and strained. “No, you shouldn’t. I’m here—” she swept a hand around the room, “with my team, rescuing our headquarters, which happens to be on  _ fire _ right now. You don’t care about SHIELD, neither does Gonzalez, and you didn’t even let me go help when Area 51 was  _ literally bombed, _ so you have some  _ serious _ explaining to do.”

Sousa could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. No one moved. Hardly anyone breathed. His hands gripped his rifle even tighter, and he cursed his decision to point it at the ground.

“So you won’t believe me if I say we came to help out our friends?” Darren finally asked.

The floor beneath Sousa’s feet shook . . . Rattled his bones.

“Not a chance,” Daisy said through clenched teeth. “You just proved me right. About everything.”

A split second of fear flashed over Darren’s face . . . Sousa almost thought he’d imagined it. Her eyes flitted to the shaking ground, then back up to Daisy. But she composed herself again and the stone-cold expression returned.

“Well,” Darren sighed. “I guess we don’t have any other choice, then.”

What happened next was like slow-motion. If he had to guess, Sousa would have looked back and said it took about three seconds.

_ One _ .

Darren’s hand flew upward, and her fist closed. 

Sousa found himself staring down the barrels of about five guns. Again.

Electricity shot through his arms, pulling his rifle up to his shoulder, by pure reflex.

_ Two. _

In his peripheral vision, he saw Daisy take a flying leap forward, past the line of her fellow agents. 

Her rifle clattered to the ground. 

She bent her knees, landing in a crouched position, and extended her arms, palms outward and fingers spread.

The air around her began to vibrate. His hands tingled.

_ Three. _

Shockwaves seemed to emanate from Daisy’s body.

Darren’s feet left the ground. 

Twenty agents followed suit. 

The only way Sousa could describe the sight before him was as if a very wide train had plowed through an entire squad of men from the front.

Twenty guns flew through the air. 

Twenty bodies hit the wall and crumpled to the ground like a squad of rag dolls.

Sousa turned his head to stare at Daisy.

So  _ that’s  _ what she was hiding from him all this time.

She looked up, jaw clenched in concentration from that maneuver, assessing the damage she’d done. Her eyes flicked this way and that. Sousa caught a glimpse of regret. But she whirled to meet his gaze . . . and immediately smiled. It was tired and a bit sad, but was also undeniably snarky and self-satisfied. 

Daisy scrambled to her feet and faced the shocked agents behind her. “Ask me about it later,” she said by way of explanation. Her eyes met Coulson’s,  becoming more panicked as reality set in. “Sir, we have to go.” 

She paused.

Took a breath.

“Hydra is here.”

.

.

.

The Hub was in flames.

Daniel’s eyes burned as he jogged through the hallways , quickly regretting his decision not to wear goggles as part of his tactical uniform. He coughed for the hundredth time and tried to see through the thick, black smoke ahead of him. 

“Davis and his team just broke through the west  entrance ,” Coulson  called , his voice straining. 

“Copy that,” Sousa answered, and waved his team over, through the next doorway. They took a flight of winding stairs up to the next level . . . And the smoke only thickened. 

“You realize we’re walking straight into the fire,  right,  boss?”

“Can it, Parker,” Sousa shot back. 

Coulson and Daisy spoke in hushed tones at the back of the group, trying to make sense of what was happening. So far, all Sousa knew was that Darren had been a complete liar during Daisy’s stay with  Real SHIELD.  And Daisy knew that.

But she had decided to go along with Darren’s charade, to try to gain the upper hand.

It had only partially worked. 

“What about Mack and Joey?” Sousa had  asked, wondering if  everyone  in the  Real SHIELD  was also Hydra.

“They’re legit,” Daisy had assured him.  “They know about Darren, too. We just had to make a plan.”

Sousa’s shoulder slammed into the corner of a wall. Painfully.

“Stop!” he called, and the sound of boots behind him ceased. He tried to peer through the smoke, but it was hopeless. “Fitz,” he hissed through his radio. Some muffled, distant sounds of gunshots traveled over from his left. “You got anything for me?”

“Trying to get infrared scanners functional,” Fitz answered, and Sousa thanked the powers above that he’d left Fitzsimmons at the Playground. Yes, they were qualified field agents, but at times like these they were invaluable while running point.

“The Hub doesn’t have many,” Fitz continued. “Trying to see if I can get the feed from your body cams.”

“Good idea,” Daniel answered.

His radio crackled . . . buzzed. And an unfamiliar voice came through. “Agent Johnson?”

Daisy gasped from the back of the group. “Mack,” she exclaimed. “Is that you?”

“Guessing the plan went south?” the deep, crackly voice asked.

“Not exactly, just took way shorter than I thought. Are you here?” Daisy made her way along the wall, eventually ending up at Sousa’s side, almost touching his arm. 

Mack answered affirmatively, and Daisy directed him to meet them at the west entrance with Davis’s team.

Before they could say any more, gunshots exploded above Daniel’s head, sending chunks of the wall raining down on them.

He instantly took hold of Daisy’s arm and  _ yanked  _ her down. They both fell onto their knees, holding their arms over their heads.

Someone screamed beside them.

“Sousa!” Coulson yelled, now invisible through the smoke. “Take Johnson, go meet Davis. I’m taking the squad back to the northeast exit.”

“Yes, sir!” Sousa replied, and gripped Daisy’s arms tighter as they crouched as low as possible. 

He couldn’t see the squad leave.

He could barely see Daisy, even with his arms around her.

The bullets wouldn’t cease . . . 

But they had stealth on their side.

“We need to get out of this—” Daisy started, then gripped his arms even tighter as she coughed . . . hacking her lungs out.

Daniel pursed his lips, and begged his brain to think.

They needed a plan. The one they had did not account for this much fire.

He tried to listen past Daisy’s coughing and the slowly-fading sound of gunshots. He lifted his head slightly, still holding onto her shoulders. 

He knew they were on the second level.

Right above the armory . . .

The distant sound of crashing and crackling finally made itself known.

The fire was coming up from the bottom. 

They still had somewhere they could go.

“The roof,” he said, already scrambling to his feet and pulling Daisy with him. “Fitz, get me to the roof on the west side!”

.

.

.

It felt like more than an eternity, stumbling through the decimated Hub, not knowing if they would make it out alive, just trying to breathe enough to force their legs to work.

They swerved this way and that, around corners, desperately trying to listen to Fitz’s rambled, frantic, heavily accented instructions.

“Same reason Area 51—” Daisy gasped as they ran, “—was bombed. Gonzalez, he—”

“To the left!” Fitz exclaimed.

Sousa yanked Daisy’s hand and sprinted down the next hallway.

“Hydra,” she continued. “He’s Hydra. Darren too. Almost all of Real SHIELD. Except—” she paused to cough again.

“Mack and Joey,” Sousa finished for her. The world spun around him. The smoke was less up here, but he couldn’t . . . couldn’t breathe.

Daisy nodded frantically and yelled something that he didn’t quite catch, about a Doctor Zola and an algorithm . . .

“Next door on your right and you’re out,” Fitz said, and Sousa finally breathed a sigh of relief.

They  _ slammed _ through the door and were instantly smacked in the face with beautiful, cold, fresh air.

Sousa doubled over, hands on his knees, taking in huge, deep gasps.

The world finally stopped spinning.

Daisy collapsed onto the ground.

“Let’s never do that again,” she gasped. 

Sousa could only nod in wholehearted agreement.

He glanced up. 

The rest of the building spread out around them on three sides, with wide open, snow-covered grassland in front of them, a few stories down. He noticed two Quinjets parked what must have been a few hundred yards away.

“Davis, this is Sousa. Johnson and I are on the west side, above the entrance. Are you here? Do you copy?”

Nothing.

“Davis, this is Chief Sousa. We’re here. Did you make it in? Do you copy? Repeat, do you copy?”

Static.

“ _ Shit,”  _ Sousa said, and collapsed onto the cement next to Daisy. 

“He’ll answer,” she said, her head leaning back against the brick wall, eyes closed. “And it’s not your fault, you know. We chose to come here and help.”

She always could read his mind.

They had just run through a building full of smoke, but the amount of soot on her face made him start. Her eyes must have stung as much as his . . . She had tear tracks to prove it. Her mouth was open, still desperately pulling in fresh air to her stinging, aching lungs. 

He glanced down at his sooty, red hands and rubbed them on his pants. 

Tapping his radio desperately, he tried again. “Coulson? This is Sousa. Do you copy—are you alright?”

Static.

“Copy,” Parker’s breathless voice answered. “We’re okay. Director’s not handling the smoke well. Trying to regroup.”

Daisy visibly relaxed.

Daniel stared out at the striking blue sky, the gears in his mind turning way too fast for comfort.

“What do we do?” he asked.

Sighing, Daisy lifted her head from the wall and clenched a fist. “I would say we go defeat those Hydra bitches, but . . .” She flexed her hand.

“I’m not going to leave Davis,” he said.

Her head whipped around and she stared him dead in the eye. “No. We’re going to figure something out. We always have.”

His eyebrows drew together.

“I could quake this whole building down onto their heads,” she continued. “But I won’t. There are still good people in SHIELD. Hydra is dug in deep. They have their roots here, and that whole . . . ‘Cut of one head, two more grow back’ thing, which is so creepy. But that doesn’t mean that people like us . . . and like Coulson, and Parker, and Fitzsimmons, and Davis, and . . . All the good people and our  _ friends. _ It doesn’t mean they don’t still exist.”

“And they’re worth fighting for,” Sousa finished. 

She met his eyes with a smile. “Yeah.”

Something lodged itself into his chest and constricted his throat. And it wasn’t smoke, this time. 

He opened his mouth to respond, fully intending to admit every feeling and every question and every regret he’d  been dealing with the last few years . . .

But before anything could escape his mouth, the air around him began to shake.

And this time, it wasn’t Daisy.

Their eyes both jerked upwards, and they scrambled to their feet, perfectly in sync. 

Above them . . . a huge, black Quinjet-type of aircraft cast an enormous shadow on the roof. 

Sousa’s jaw hit the floor.

He glanced over at Daisy, and her expression shocked him even more than the chopper.

She was thrilled. Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. Her smile could not have physically been wider.

“They did it!” she exclaimed, all but jumping up and down. 

“Wha—” Sousa tried to say, but clamped his mouth shut and instead, watched the helicopter land with ease, right in front of their eyes. 

As soon as the wheels touched the ground, Daisy sprinted forward, meeting the loading ramp just as it lowered. Sousa watched in shock as roughly thirty assorted people stepped out onto the roof.

Daisy perfectly blended into them, as she shook a tall man’s hand, then gave a red-haired woman a hug, then slapped the shoulder of a scruffy-looking, yet kind-eyed man. They looked like a team, but they definitely were not agents.

One of the men looked vaguely, weirdly familiar . . . But he was sure they had never met before.

“Sousa,” Daisy called, beckoning him into the group. She stood next to a towering, bulky, very intimidating-looking man, who was holding what looked like an . . . axe? Or was it a rifle?

“Daniel, this is Agent Mackenzie,” she said, gesturing between them. “Mack, this is Chief Sousa.” 

Sousa extended his hand, finally finding some words. “Good to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“You too,” the other man said. “And please . . . Call me Mack.” 

Daniel smiled and nodded. This guy didn’t seem half bad.

Daisy came to stand next to Sousa again. “And these,” she swept her arm around, motioning to the thirty members of this strange, mismatched, ragtag group, “. . . are the Secret Warriors.”

.

.

.

“That’s the last thing I hid from you, I swear.” Daisy adjusted the straps on her gloves and stared Sousa in the eye, begging him to understand. “They were our ultimate plan to take down Hydra,” she explained. “I couldn’t have that information anywhere near SHIELD. I’m sorry.”

Sousa nodded. “I understand.”

And really, he did. 

The plan was absolutely ingenious, as far as he was concerned. A completely secret team of superpowered beings, created for the sole purpose of taking down one of the largest threats in the world? Daniel couldn’t have planned that if he tried.

Introductions had been made, powers explained, and the best strategy they could come up with was formed. Masks were procured and weapons reloaded. 

“Gonzalez is here,” Mack explained. “At first he tried to negotiate with Agent Hand. Introduced himself as a friend. Tried to merge their two organizations, so he could have the upper hand . . . then he would release his Hydra minions into the depths of SHIELD. When Hand didn’t cooperate, they went to Plan B.”

“Burn the base down?” Sousa filled  in, eyebrows raised. Seemed inefficient.

“Only to make a point.” Mack nodded. “And to draw in other agents from other locations.”

Daisy sighed. “It worked.”

Sousa set his jaw and glanced at Daisy. She met his eyes, and a thousand silent conversations flew between them. 

“You know your missions now,” Mack continued, addressing the squad of  inhumans . “Find Agent Davis and his men. Avoid the east side, but put out the fire where you find it.”

Echoes of “Yes, sir” rang over the roof. 

Mack heaved his shotgun-axe and raised his eyebrows. “Alright. Let’s move.”

The  inhumans swarmed around them, in an orderly chaos, masks on and ready for battle.

Sousa waited behind until they all disappeared through the door. There was still something he had to do.

Daisy finished reloading her handgun and strapped it to her holster again. She smacked the button on the side of the huge  Quinjet , and the loading ramp  _ hissed _ , raising itself up.

Only a few more  inhumans remained on the roof. They headed for the door.

Sousa swallowed. 

Took a deep breath.

And before Daisy could reach up to put her mask on, he said, “Wait. Daisy.”

She glanced up, and he gripped his own mask a bit tighter.

He didn’t know what he was doing. It just happened. 

Daniel surged forward, eyebrows drawn together, wondering what the  _ hell _ he was doing. 

But before he knew it, he had  snaked his arm around her shoulder, placed his left hand at the base of her neck, bent his head down . . . And he kissed her. 

Only for a moment, and he _almost_ pulled away again. But when she instantly reached up to take hold of his shoulder, he relaxed and drew in a relieved breath through his nose, never breaking the kiss. 

He tasted smoke . . .

Another moment passed, and Daisy pulled back . . . Then placed another short, sweet kiss against his lips, all the while smiling. Like a total dork.

His stomach flipped a few times . . . His hands tingled.

He wanted to draw her back in, but instead he took a sharp breath and wrinkled his brow. “I . . .” he said. “I didn’t know I was gonna do that.”

She smiled again, even wider this time. And it lit up her entire face. It sent warmth through his whole body. “I’m glad you did,” she whispered.

He held her gaze . . . Simply because he couldn’t break it away. 

Her dark eyes sparkled, rimmed with black soot. They were bloodshot and exhausted and completely joy-filled and . . . were those tears he saw? But she blinked, and they were gone. 

Unfortunately, the problems at hand were too much to ignore. 

She glanced past him, at the door that led back into the burning war zone of a base, and sighed. She took his hand. Nodded with renewed purpose. And smiled again. 

“Let’s go kick some Hydra ass.” 

.

.

.


	9. slowly driving me insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Believe it or not, I actually re-wrote most of this chapter today. I thought it was going to go one way, but then the stupid plot bunny said "nuh uh." So here we are, with some interesting new developments that the story decided on its own! I swear, these characters tell ME what to do, not vice versa. LOL.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!!

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.

_ December 23 _ _ rd _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

“Structural integrity of the building is at . . . seventy-three percent, and quickly going down,” Fitz’s voice crackled through the comms. 

“Be careful,” Jemma added, “and stay toward the west wing. The eastern portion is almost burned through.”

Daisy nodded, even though her friends couldn’t see her. She clutched the handgun even tighter in her fists. “Copy that.”

Her feet pounded the cement floor. Her breath rasped through the smoke mask. 

“Coulson, MacAuley—” Daniel’s voice came through her comm, but she couldn’t even hear him from five steps behind. “Has anyone found Davis yet?”

“Negative,” Parker answered. 

The hallways all looked the same, and Daisy wanted to punch something. 

How big was this place? 

The smoke was much, much thinner the further east they ran, but her senses were still on high alert. Her hands shook. Anything and anyone could be hiding behind the next corner, and they would never see it coming.

Behind her, Daniel’s breath rasped. It wasn’t like him to be exhausted this soon. She desperately hoped the smoke hadn’t affected him too much. If she had known how widespread the fire would be, she would have brought masks at the beginning . . . She took a quick glance backward and caught his eyes through his safety glasses. Her heart did a flip. 

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, and took a breath. Looked straight ahead again. 

_ Focus, Daisy _ .

(That was harder than it was before. Damn him and his sweet, emotional kiss . . .)

“Got him!” Fitz exclaimed. “Davis and his team. Sixty yards, then sharp left. Conference room, I think. They’re okay, but their oxygen levels are . . . dangerously low.”

Daisy was too busy gasping through her mask to thank him, but she telepathically hugged Jemma for installing vitals monitors into everyone’s tactical gear. And body cams. Suffice it to say, her friends were geniuses. 

“Copy. We’re on our way. How long do we have until this place collapses?” Sousa asked.

Fitz took a shaky breath. “About thirty-five minutes.”

“Is everyone evacuated?”

“Yes, sir. Everyone working there today is accounted for.”

Daniel nodded. “Alright. Let’s move.”

.

.

.

Daisy had major déjà vu as the team kicked down the double doors, guns raised. 

They scanned the room and Mack surged forward to untie Davis and his squad . . . who were lying unconscious on the ground. Daisy’s breath caught.

Joey had taken fifteen of the Secret Warriors around to the northwest side to meet Coulson and MacAuley. Fifteen remained with Daisy and Sousa, and now they all grouped around, hands and guns raised at attention, trying to peer through the haze.

“Don’t move,” a gravelly voice ordered, and a figure appeared from the smoke. 

Daisy almost sighed, but caught herself. “You know, I’m getting really tired of facing off with you guys,” she said, stepping forward just a bit to stare Gonzalez in the eye. “You and Darren are so dramatic.”

“Daisy.” The leader of Real SHIELD (or rather, Hydra) raised his eyebrows. “I thought you went MIA.”

“Oh good, then I did something right.” she countered. “I thought you knew everything that happened around here. I thought you had eyes in—what was it— _ every intelligence organization in the world? _ Pretty sure you’d already figured out my plan. Guess I was better than that.”

As she spoke, her thumb bumped the grip of her gun in a quick, practiced pattern. ‘ _ Get out,’ _ she tapped in morse code and hoped against hope that Daniel would see it.

Gonzalez leaned forward onto his cane. “Oh, I figured out most of it.”

She tapped the message again.

“I knew you weren’t loyal to Real SHIELD,” Gonzalez sneered. 

“You mean Hydra?” Crazy, brazen courage warmed Daisy’s head. If she had to quake the ceiling onto his head, then so be it. But she wanted him to work for it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mack and Sousa protectively standing over Davis and his team . . . none of whom moved.

“Call it that if you want,” Gonzalez said. “I call it the future of civilization.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “You and Darren really can’t stop monologuing, can you?” She took a breath. “Listen. The only thing Hydra will be in the future is field notes from archeologists who dig up this site after we send it into the ground.”

“You’re not going to kill us.”

“Wanna bet?” Daisy tightened her grip on her gun. Kept tapping the message. Of all the times for Daniel to read her mind, now would have been ideal. 

Gonzalez smiled behind his mustache and took a few steps forward, never breaking eye contact. “Yes, I do.”

“Cool. And while we’re on the topic, do you know why that’s a stupid assumption?” Her veins ran with hot rage. She could suddenly see ten times clearer, her ears buzzed, and every muscle in her body wound tight like a spring. 

The shock on Gonzalez’ face upon hearing her words only fueled Daisy’s anger. “Please, tell me.”

Finally, Sousa saw the message she was relentlessly tapping out on her thumb. He grabbed Mack’s arm and gestured wildly, thankfully out of Gonzalez’ sight. To her right, Daisy saw the fifteen Secret Warriors take tiny, inch-by-inch steps, encircling the Hydra leader. A buzz came through her comm:  _ “Chief, I have the Director and Joey’s inhuman team on board. Took out at least five Hydra squads. We’re in the air, above the Hub. Waiting for the all-clear.” _

Daisy clenched her jaw. It was now or never. “Because you assume that I have even an  _ ounce  _ of sympathy for the organization that murdered my mother.”

The entire room went deadly silent.

Gonzalez raised an eyebrow. “And you thought that forming a secret group of superheroes right under my nose would make up for that? You know by now, Daisy . . . Hydra is dug in deep. We go much, much further than just Real SHIELD. Cut of one head—”

“And two more take its place,” Daisy finished. “Yeah, I’ve heard.” 

Mack and Sousa sprang into action again. A few of Davis’ men were already waking up and beginning to cough miserably. Daisy prayed they could get them at least out to the hallway . . .

She might have to activate plan B. (Or was it plan G at this point?)

Risking a glance away from Gonzalez, she found Daniel’s familiar shape. He was bent over Agent Davis, trying in vain to wake him. He must have read her mind, because at that second, he looked up . . . and their eyes locked.

She had no idea how long it was that they stood there, but it must have been just a millisecond. His face was caked with black soot above his smoke mask, and his red-rimmed eyes watered. As much as they had been through together, she had never seen him like this before. It occurred to her, like a slap in the face, what he’d done for her. All the months he’d spent searching after she disappeared . . . And even if they’d had a rough restart, he had been nothing but open and trusting and supportive after she’d told him her story. She had always trusted him with her life . . . trusted him to pick her back up when she fell. When she was too reckless for her own good. When she had bad days and just wanted to quit, he was there. He always had been, and now . . . judging by the soft, pained, panicked, and yet completely trusting and committed expression he wore, she knew he always  _ would  _ be there, no matter what she did. Her lips burned with the memory of the rushed, last-minute, life-or-death kiss they’d shared . . . And courage once again flooded her senses.

Daisy knew what she had to do.

She looked back at Gonzalez.

“It may just be one head,” she spat, electricity coursing through her veins. “But I’m glad it’s going to be you.”

And with that, she jumped. 

But not toward her opponent.

“Peters!” she shouted, as the building began to rumble. Her knees landed next to where Sousa crouched, and she flung an arm around him. Instantly, another woman with flaming red hair extended her hands, and a bright white light surrounded the group of agents on the ground, forming a protective barrier.

The floor shook.

The ceiling crumbled . . .

Sousa gripped Daisy’s arms.

One of the  inhumans stepped in front of Gonzalez, who was trying to protect himself from falling rubble. The inhuman threw his head back, let his arms fly to the sides . . . 

There was a  _ flash. _

And everything went dark.

.

.

.

_ December 25 _ _ th _ _ , 2020 _

_. _

_ “Took down an entire building . . .” _

_ “No, Beck did.” _

_ “Both of them, then.” _

_ “But wasn’t it burning, anyway? It was  _ _ gonna _ _ collapse.” _

. 

.

Daisy blinked. 

She couldn’t see. 

A violent cough escaped her, and her chest felt like it had been stabbed.

The rough fabric of hospital blankets surrounded her. 

_ Wait. _

Panic struck her right in the center of her stomach. 

Hospital sheets. 

Was she . . .

What had happened?

She couldn’t remember.

Daisy took a stuttering breath.

Something beside her moved, and she tried to reach a hand out to feel where it came from . . .

“Daisy,” a rough, tired, happy, familiar voice said.

She tried to turn her head and focus on the source . . . but everything was foggy. Like smoke. “Where . . .” her voice rasped. “Where am I?”

The person gripped her hand. “The med bay in the Playground.”

Her eyes blinked a few more times . . . and finally cleared.

Daniel.

Of course.

Daisy tried to swallow, but her entire head was bone dry. She cleared her throat, weakly. “The Hub . . . Did the plan work?”

Sousa squeezed her hand tighter, and leaned further forward onto the bed. It looked like he had dozed off . . . Sitting on a chair, his arms and shoulders and head resting on her cot. “Yeah, it . . . It worked. But please, Daisy, don’t ever do that again.”

If she could have smiled, she would have. But her entire face burned. So she squeezed his hand as an answer. “Did you recognize Beck?”

“You mean the guy who exploded and took the Hub down with him?” Daniel laughed. It was such a welcome sound. “Yeah, can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

Beck. He was the first inhuman Daisy had ever seen. Her team had been tracking him those years ago, before that fateful day on the cliff in Arizona. They had chased him through the woods, and he had exploded in their faces. Or rather, he had caused the particles around him to explode, while he escaped unharmed. It had kicked Daisy into a frantic search for other  inhumans , spilling over into her time at Real SHIELD. When she began helping Mack with Project Secret Warriors, Miles Beck was the first person she contacted. 

“Is everyone else okay?” she asked.

Sousa pursed his lips and looked down at their clasped hands. Daisy noticed residual soot under his eyebrows . . . and wondered if he’d actually taken care of himself properly.

“ MacAuley took a piece of burning building to the eye on her way out . . . Davis is still in a coma . . . And your friend Peters broke her arm.” He looked back up and stared her down. “And you. Your ribs are fractured, your lungs are inflamed from the smoke, and your arms are bruised and broken up to your elbows.” He raised an eyebrow. “But otherwise, we’re good.”

Daisy sighed and closed her eyes. She must have been drugged, because breathing only hurt like a little bit of a bitch. “What about Gonzalez?”

“Dead. Beck dragged his body away for proof.”

“There was something weird about everything,” Daisy whispered, quickly losing her voice. “We won . . . But it doesn't feel like a victory. I think . . ." she coughed again. "I think there was something weird about Gonzalez. I think he was trying to distract me.”

Sousa shook his head. “You can worry about it later. For  now . . . Try to relax. I’ll tell Jemma you’re awake.” He reached for his crutches and stood, slowly and wearily. 

Daisy cracked her eyes open to silently thank him. 

“Oh, and—” he smiled. “Merry Christmas, Daisy.”

.

.

.

As far as Christmases went, Daniel had never celebrated many. Sure, his dad was religious, but . . . Christmas was frivolous, in his eyes. It was a waste of money, his dad said, of which they never had much.  So Daniel grew up being content to eat a good dinner of chicken and gravy and canned cranberries, while his dad read the Christmas story from his old, worn-out Bible. 

And he’d never needed more than just that. 

But now . . . He was thankful for the holiday. Because it gave him an excuse to make sure the team was in good spirits after the destruction of the Hub.

“She’s awake,” he announced as he swung into the kitchen.

Simmons’ face lit up like a thousand light bulbs. “Oh, wonderful!” She turned to gather a few instruments and her tablet, then glanced back at Sousa. “Did you tell her . . .?”

Daniel took a breath. “No. Didn’t want to stress her out more.”

“I don’t want to be rude, Chief . . .” Jemma hesitated. “But I think she should know. From what she told  us, Darren is dangerous. And she knows too much now.”

“Noted.” Daniel nodded. “But I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

Jemma ducked her head and hurried out of the room with a quick “Yes, sir.”

Sousa sighed and lowered himself to the kitchen table. He sighed—half out of relief and half out of total exhaustion—and rested his head in his hands.

Everything was a mess.

The Secret Warrior team had been given a wing of the Playground for the time being, and they were acclimating nicely. Mack and Joey were good, strong leaders. They had that part under control. 

But words like ‘Hydra’ and ‘Darren’ and ‘inhuman’ floated through his mind. More secrets to keep, more research to do, more digging and fighting and pushing back against this weird, new organization that apparently was plotting to take over the world. Or at least just SHIELD. 

Coulson had immediately taken a  Quinjet back to the Sandbox to record what had happened, and to bring the few people who had been at the Hub. That silver lining was that the day it blew was a holiday. And there were only a few lab techs and communications experts running the place. They had evacuated as soon as Hydra invaded and the fire started.

At least there was one good thing about all of this . . .

“Heard she’s awake.” The rumbling voice startled Sousa out of his thoughts. He jerked his head up and found himself staring into Mack’s kind eyes.

“Yeah.” He let out a long breath.

Mack settled himself into the chair across from Daniel, and smiled. “I knew she’d pull through. That one, she’s . . .”

“Insane?” Daniel raised an eyebrow, and Mack laughed.

“I was  going to say, she’s a fighter. But that works, too.”

Sousa smiled. 

“I meant to tell you,” Mack continued, “thank you for believing her. I know the story sounds crazy, but it’s all true. Every word she said. Hydra is still out there, and we need everyone on the same team if we’re going to go after them.”

Daniel nodded and drew his eyebrows together. “Daisy and I . . . I don’t know how much she told you, but we were partners for a long time. Pretty much helped Coulson build SHIELD to what it is now. We’re a good team. I’m not going to throw that away.”

“That’s what she said, too.” Mack crossed his arms. “Said you guys had a real thing going.”

“Did she?”

Mack grinned. “Yeah. Crazy how often she said she missed you.”

That sentence hit Daniel in the chest like a freight train. “I . . .”

“She’s glad to be back, you know.”

Daniel could only nod. Of course he was glad (infinitely so) to have her back. Even if she did play with his heart and make him want to jump back into a thousand burning buildings if only to keep her safe. Even if she was like a tidal wave, always rushing into one thing or another without any consideration for her own wellbeing. (Especially then.)

If there was one  thing he was good at, it was loyalty. He cared deeply about his whole team, of course, but at that moment he knew he would do anything for her. Just her. Anything to pick her back up when she fell down. Anything to support her and care for her as much as he could.

He grabbed his crutches and shoved his chair back, obviously startling Mack. He took a breath. “Sorry, I have to . . .” Cleared his throat. “Good to talk to you, Mack.” 

And with that, he was gone.

.

.

.


	10. i've been lonely long enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!! <3  
> I feel like this chapter is a bit shorter than normal, but I'm SO very excited to share it! You'll see why.... :)
> 
> Enjoy!

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. 

. 

_December 25_ _th_ _, 2020_

_._

Daniel’s crutches couldn’t carry him fast enough. 

Time flew past him. They had too much time . . . No, they had _wasted_ too much time. Far too much. 

As the brick walls dragged on, his mind raced back in time, to the first day they had shipped out on the brand-new Zephyr . . . what seemed like a lifetime ago, before she went missing and both their lives changed. That day, Daisy had been giving a punching bag the beating of its life and he remembered being shocked at how violently she threw her punches. He had stood in the doorway for a beat too long, and had heard her yelling (almost _screaming_ ) at the bag as it swung this way and that. And in that split second, his whole view of her shifted. 

Of course he hadn’t realized it at the time. But when she went after him, and they sparred hand-to-hand like they had done countless times before, he had held back. It wasn’t like him. 

He knew her strength. He knew she was more capable than he was in that area, but he had found himself . . . not wanting to risk hurting her. 

Before that day, they had been partners. Good ones. They ran Area 51 together and formed a good, solid working relationship. So that day surprised him. 

Damn if he knew why it hit him that day. 

There was nothing special about punching a bag. It was a common exercise, for all the agents. But when he watched her there, eyebrows drawn together in concentration and anger, yanking her fists back only to heave them into the stiff fabric, every move precise and full of emotion . . . something clicked. 

It slapped him in the face again the day he woke up from surgery. 

When Jemma said those words ( _“We can’t find her. She’s gone.”_ ) . . . it all came back like a freight train to his stomach. 

And now . . . He was done wasting time. 

She had to know more than just a . . . a good luck kiss. Just a few words. A stolen moment. 

She meant more to him than just that. 

He took a breath. 

The door to the medical wing stared him in the face. 

Time slowed as he raised his hand . . . placed it against the cold metal of the door . . . and knocked. 

. 

. 

. 

“That should be the last of it,” Fitz said with a satisfied nod. He slapped the armrests of his chair and sat back, staring at the computer screen. 

Mack peered over his shoulder. “Nice work. Didn’t know they had this kind of tech at SHIELD.” 

“Yeah, well,” Fitz wrinkled his eyebrows and swiveled around to face the taller man. “You didn’t know a lot about SHIELD.” 

With a grin and a tilt of his head, Mack shrugged. “Well. More than you guys think I did.” 

Fitz’s mouth fell halfway open, but before he could respond, Parker’s insistent voice cut through the relative quiet of the lab. It was followed closely by a deep laugh and a sharp retort. Fitz’s eyes followed the pair as MacAuley and Miles Beck, one of the inhumans, walked past the lab together, laughing and hurling quips and insults at each other . . . They disappeared down the hallway. 

“Wow,” Mack said, completely unimpressed. 

“At least everyone’s getting along.” Fitz shrugged. “They’ll have to, when training starts. The Chief can be a real stickler about training sometimes.” 

“Really? Didn’t seem like that to me.” 

Fitz’s chair swiveled even further, this time facing Mack head-on. His neck craned up, almost staring at the ceiling, just to meet Mack’s eyes. “Well, you didn’t know him until three days ago, did you?” 

“Fair point.” Mack lowered himself into a chair and sighed, crossing his arms. “Any leads on Darren?” 

A new voice called from the lab door: “Nothing.” 

Mack craned his head around to see Adler striding through the lab, a tablet in his hands. He raised an eyebrow. 

“No reports, no satellite, no nothing.” Trent Adler looked back up and pursed his lips. “She might as well be a ghost. Or dead. Or both.” 

“I watched her leave,” Fitz reminded him with a pointed wave toward his computer. 

Adler wasn’t convinced. “We were watching those feeds together, Fitz. I don’t think that’s what you saw.” 

Fitz sighed and rubbed his face. It had been a split second of movement in the security footage from the Hub. The room was engulfed in smoke, but he swore he could see a streak of black kevlar dashing out of the burning building. He had replayed it over and over and over, but neither Simmons nor Adler could see what he could. 

“Just keep looking,” Mack said firmly. “If Hydra’s still out there, we need to know. The Hub was a win for us, but there is truth to that saying of theirs . . . Cut of one head, two more grow back. Whatever it is.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to hate that,” he grumbled. 

“That makes two of us.” Adler heaved a sigh, placed his tablet down on the nearest desk, and stretched his shoulders. “I’ll send out a scout team for some aerial reconnaissance tomorrow.” 

Mack nodded and glanced around the room. “You’ll have to show me around this place, Agent Fitz. Pretty neat set-up.” 

“Just call me Fitz,” he said automatically, and looked back at the mechanic with a grin. “But yeah. Thanks. Simmons and I designed the idea of it. You should have seen the lab at Area 51. Even better than this one. ‘S where we designed the latest Quinjet model. The one with turbo boosters.” 

Mack swore that Fitz’s eyes misted over for a moment. He held back a chuckle. “I’m sure it was something else,” he said, and heaved a sigh as he stood. “Well . . . Turbo—” he couldn’t help but nickname the grumpy, likeable scientist, “—I better check on the inhumans. Make sure they’re not all running away with one of your agents.” 

Adler let out a snort and rolled his eyes. 

Mack grinned. 

. 

. 

. 

“So, I’ll be back to normal pretty soon, right?” Daisy asked, her voice hoarse and dry. Her head pounded as she blinked. Painfully. 

Jemma raised an eyebrow and looked up. “You’re joking.” 

“Not really . . .” 

The doctor let out a _huff_ and finished re-wrapping Daisy’s arm. “Give it at least three days, then we can talk. But until then—” she stared Daisy down, eyebrows raised, “—bed rest.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Daisy said weakly. She knew that look, and Jemma was not to be argued with. 

“And another—” 

But before could finish, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. 

“It’s open,” Simmons called. 

The handle turned slowly . . . and a curly head of hair poked through, followed by a concerned face. “Hey,” Daniel said quietly and swung through the door, shutting it behind him. 

Daisy smiled. “Hey.” 

“How are you feeling, Chief?” Jemma asked, a kind, caring smile lighting her eyes. 

“Better,” Sousa admitted and leaned heavily on his crutches. “Thank you, Simmons.” 

She nodded, gathered up her tools, and gave Daisy a once-over. “Don’t let this one leave her bed. She’s under strict orders.” 

Daniel chuckled, but Daisy rolled her eyes. “I feel fine, doc.” 

“You do not.” Jemma shook her head. 

Stepping forward, Daniel placed a hand on the headboard behind Daisy. “I’ve got her. You taught me a thing or two about being strict with patients, remember?” 

For a moment, Daisy processed his words. Jemma was always strict with her patients, but when would Daniel ever need . . .? 

Her gaze flicked to his crutches. 

Right. 

With a laugh and a quick pat on Daisy’s shoulder, Jemma excused herself. Daisy watched her leave, hurrying around like she did . . . And suddenly became extremely aware of the familiar figure standing beside her. 

She swallowed. 

Daniel took a few steps around her bed, pulled up a chair, and lowered himself carefully down. 

“So how long did you—” 

“There’s something I need to—” 

They spoke at the exact same time, and they both stopped. 

Daisy coughed weakly, but she smiled and gestured in Daniel’s general direction. “Go ahead.” 

He waited a beat, making sure her coughs subsided . . . before he reached out and took her hand, then changed his mind and snapped it back like he had been burned. He leaned back in the chair, then leaned forward. He cleared his throat. 

“Guess I should have thought of what I was going to say before I came in here,” he laughed. 

Already, Daisy was curious. He was a man of few words, but he rarely stumbled over them like this. She would have told him it was fine, and that he should take his time, but her throat burned . . . and he just looked like he needed to gather his thoughts. 

Taking a deep breath and finally deciding to rest one elbow on his good knee and prop the other up on Daisy’s bed, Daniel gathered the courage to speak. 

“Listen, Daisy,” he said. “First of all, I wanted to . . . apologize. For being rash and not thinking, back on that roof at the Hub. I shouldn’t have just . . . swooped in like that.” 

Daisy opened her mouth to protest (in no world should he have to apologize for that kiss), but he raised a hand to cut her off. 

“That said, I’ve . . .” he lowered his eyes and studied the plain white bedsheets intently. “I’ve been thinking. About the last year and a half, and even before that, when we were partners. All the good that we did, and all the sacrifices you made for our team, and . . . I never really appreciated that before now.” 

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and Daisy couldn’t help but melt a bit under his open, honest, familiar gaze. “Daisy, I watched you throw yourself on top of three agents while a building came crashing down around you. You could have . . .” He cleared his throat and clenched his jaw. “It could have ended so much worse back there.” 

“But it didn’t,” Daisy whispered, almost feeling where he was going with this. 

“No,” he admitted. “But you still scared the _shit_ out of me.” 

She had to laugh at his sudden cheekiness, and the grin that lit up his face was worth the pain in her lungs. 

“But honestly,” he continued after she fell quiet again. “I just . . . really realized. It hit me that day, when I saw you just . . . laying there. Barely breathing.” 

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. 

Daniel paused and bowed his head, fingers running along the sheets again. “I almost thought I was going to lose you again. I can’t do that again, Dais—” his voice caught. 

A few moments passed, and Daisy couldn’t say anything. She watched him grasp the edge of her blanket in his hand, his jaw clenching with suppressed emotion . . . And she was frozen. Silent. 

“I know you probably don’t need me around,” he finally said, rushing as if to prevent her from interjecting, “or _want_ me around. Or you maybe don’t want to be a part of the team like you were before, or . . . We all changed, I know.” And when he looked up again, meeting her eyes like he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say, Daisy’s heart stopped. 

“I just want you to know,” Daniel continued, “that I’ll always be here. If you need me. I’ll always be here . . . for you. To pick you back up when you fall, or when you run into walls, or if you . . . just need a place to come back to when you run too far. But whatever happens, I just . . . want you to be happy. Wherever you end up.” 

Silence grew between them, and Daisy couldn’t even open her mouth. 

A hot, burning ache pressed into her chest and made its lingering way down her arm, to the tips of her fingers. She shifted slightly, reached out her hand, and grasped his tightly. 

“Daniel,” she whispered, unable to process what he had just said. How could he be so open, so selfless, so _trusting?_ She had burned him. Both figuratively and literally. And yet, he forgave her. He welcomed her back into the team that was so important to her, he believed her crazy story, and he followed her into the jaws of death, never looking back. 

He had always inherently understood her. That’s why they got along and worked together so well, ever since day one. And of course—of _course—_ now would be no exception, would it? 

Daisy gathered all the emotion she contained, sorted through the possible answers in her mind, squeezed his hand, took a breath . . . and said, “I belong right here.” 

That was all he needed to hear. A split second passed, and she hoped that every thought could travel from her eyes to his, because her voice was too sore to say any more. 

But before she knew it, he had heaved himself out of the chair to sit on the edge of her bed, his good leg bracing him on the floor. 

Daisy tried to sit herself up so she could hold his gaze. 

Neither of them moved. 

To Daisy, it felt like hours. She reveled in this new, strange light he’d cast himself in with so few words . . . and yet they were such powerful ones. They had both changed in so, so many ways. And yet even now, he was still the same constant, open, forgiving person she’d met all those years ago in Area 51. But now, she saw so much _more_ of his character. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to _be there for her._ He wanted to support her and be her lighthouse in the storm. 

And she wanted nothing more than to do the same for him. 

With aching care, she reached a hand up to his shoulder . . . and pulled him forward. 

A beat passed. 

She took a breath. His eyes searched hers for just a moment . . . And their lips met in a sweet, tender, soul-crushing kiss. 

They moved slowly, each soaking in the feeling of the other and savoring it, and time seemed to still completely . . . (So different from the rushed, life-or-death, _goodbye_ kiss they’d shared at the Hub . . .) 

Daniel pulled back and took a breath. Daisy delayed opening her eyes, wanting to revel in the moment as long as she could. When she finally met his gaze, he asked a silent question. 

She smiled slightly, just quirking the corners of her mouth up, and he didn’t need any other cue. He instantly pulled her closer, wrapping his free arm around her back, and she couldn’t help but smile against his lips when he kissed her with so much emotion and pent-up longing that she had to take hold of his forearm to anchor herself. 

She couldn’t have said how long they stayed there, just reveling in this new, mysterious world that just felt so . . . _right,_ like she had never lived without knowing how much he cared about her, and knowing that she could reciprocate fully, wholly, without fear of rejection. 

The pain and aching of the last year flew out the window. 

Daisy knew where she was. She knew _who_ she was . . . 

And she knew that this— _this—_ was right where she needed to be. 

. 

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	11. by the stars above, i know we were in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys . . . I have news.
> 
> ****This is the last chapter!****
> 
> This is it-- we've come to the end. (And now I'm sad.)  
> But don't worry, because I actually have a sequel planned already!! And it will be here very, very soon. So stay tuned!
> 
> Enjoy!!

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_January 18 th, 2021_

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Daisy stepped lightly onto the soft dirt.

She lifted her head and stared out over the breezy Colorado plains, watching the clouds as they moved and billowed.

“Looking pretty great, isn’t it?” a familiar voice said behind her, and Daisy grinned.

“Won’t be the same, but yeah. It’ll be good to have something in the open again.”

Daniel propped his hands on his hips and wrinkled his eyebrows as he watched the construction workers. The foundation for the new SHIELD base was beginning to be built, and it was fantastic. It would be bigger than the Area 51 base, with more modern improvements and more personalized specifications from the whole team. The Playground was beginning to feel cramped and dark, and everyone was ready to be back in between the mountains, with actual windows in their offices.

“Coulson doesn’t think we should keep wasting resources on this right now,” Daniel said with a sigh.

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Is that what he said?”

He turned slightly to meet her eyes. “Yeah, we just had a meeting today. He’s skeptical. Thinks we need to keep adding resources to the hunt.”

“We’ve hardly seen Hydra pop up anywhere in three months. Real SHIELD is gone. We did our homework.”

Sighing again and nodding with the weight of a continued, repeated conversation, Daniel crossed his arms. “But you know the fight’s not over yet.”

Daisy knew. That week over Christmas after they had watched the Hub be destroyed, Mack and Joey had immediately kicked into high gear and spent hours upon hours with the higher-ups in SHIELD, debriefing and informing them of every single detail of intel they had regarding Hydra, Darren, and the late Robert Gonzalez.

MacAuley, Adler, and Fitz worked together to keep close tabs on every single SHIELD base, watching for any suspicious activity. Daisy and Coulson ran continuous personnel checks, interviews, and lie detector tests. Sousa, Simmons, and Joey began working with the Secret Warriors to integrate them into SHIELD and create detailed files for each of them.

The new group of inhumans had been nothing but helpful and compliant, going out of their way to offer information or services, though always keeping a certain distance from the SHIELD team. Daniel understood that, and no one begrudged the inhumans their space.

But there was one particular inhuman who couldn’t stand to be apart from her teammates for too long . . .

Daisy took a step to the left and leaned her body over, wrapping her arm around Daniel’s. “We’ll figure it out.”

He instantly relaxed and squeezed her hand. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And honestly, he felt the same way. They were all done with the waiting . . . the constant fear. The unknown of just their everyday lives. Would Hydra strike again at the most unexpected time? Who knew? They were all itching to take action; To throw themselves back into the mix and sort out the problems together. Most of them (at least Daisy and Daniel) were soldiers. They were people of action, and when their solutions were limited to just waiting with bated breath, they became restless. But at the moment, they had no choice but to take small steps in the right directions, always staying three steps ahead.

“Hey lovebirds,” MacAuley yelled, her ATV coming to a loud halt directly behind them. “Either get a room or get your asses back to the Zephyr. We don’t have all day.”

“We actually do, Parker,” Sousa said with a long-suffering sigh, and Daisy laughed.

MacAuley smirked and revved the four-wheeler’s engine a few times. “Not according to Davis. Now stop gazing into the void together and get back to the damn plane.”

“Hey, who gives the orders around here?” Daniel called as the younger agent sped gleefully away in a cloud of dust.

Daisy hid her laughter in Daniel’s shoulder. She could feel him shake his head . . . and she could picture the teasing grin on his face.

“Kids these days,” he muttered. “Unbelievable.

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_January 20 th, 2021_

_._

“I promise, Jemma. I’m fine.” Daniel finished removing his prosthesis, re-rolled his pant leg, and took hold of his crutches again. He smiled gently and watched as Simmons crossed her arms and fixed him with a disapproving glare.

“Just let the poor man go,” Fitz insisted from behind her.

Sousa tilted his head toward his friend in agreement. “What he said.”

“You all beat yourselves up in the Hub,” Jemma protested. “I don’t want to clear you until I know _absolutely sure—_ ”

“We’re _fine,_ ” Daisy called from the other end of the room. “Jemma, stop worrying. We’ve had a month to recover.”

Finally, the doctor threw up her hands and let out a _huff._ “Alright. You’re clear, just promise me you’ll be careful.” She turned and landed a pointed glare on Daisy. “Understood?”

“Sure, mom,” Daisy laughed.

Fitz rolled his eyes at his partner. “You worry too much.”

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_February 2 nd, 2021_

_._

When Daniel Sousa met with Director Coulson for the first time, almost seven years ago, his view of SHIELD was . . . new. It was narrow, given that he had only heard of the organization that same day.

He had a hard time seeing the big picture. He liked to focus on the present; he could always see the details of his here and now, and left the far-ahead, big-picture thinking up to the dreamers of the world. It was what made him such a brilliant agent. The less he focused on the future or the past or both . . . the more he could narrow his vision and react to the movements his team was making every second.

But it was also what made him so blind to the possibilities right next to him.

How could he have known that this organization would become his whole life? How could he have seen so far into the future—being so focused on the present—to know that this woman standing next to him would become the most important person in his life?

He owed a lot to SHIELD, if he was honest with himself.

And he supposed he owed a lot to the universe, for aligning the events of the past year and a half just perfectly . . . to finally get through his thick skull and make him realize just how important this person had become to him.

“How you feeling, old man?”

Daniel stretched out his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and tilted his head both ways. “Better than ever.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed, and she smirked. “Let’s test that out, shall we?”

And with practiced, cat-like ease, she launched herself toward her sparring partner, fists already swinging. Daniel blocked her, blow for blow, keeping his feet planted and using his steady stance to his advantage.

While she leaned and stepped and threw punch after punch, he stood his ground, his feet only moving to keep him upright.

She whirled to the left suddenly, sweeping a foot down toward his ankle . . . but he anticipated the move and sprung out of the way of her attempted kick.

She backed up for a split second and re-assessed her options.

He took a sharp breath.

With a speed he hadn’t remembered that she possessed, she threw herself forward again, head-on.

She tried to go for his neck, but he threw up a hand and caught her arm.

Her other fist came flying at his torso, but he leapt to the side and used the momentum to twist the arm he clutched behind her back and lock one leg around the front of her knee, from behind, planting it again on the ground so she was trapped, their limbs tangled together. She stumbled and almost pitched forward, but he held onto her shoulders.

“That’s new,” she said, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to form on her forehead.

Daniel didn’t answer. Instead, he realized in a split second that if she moved at all, they would both fall flat on their faces . . . so he took a chance.

He kept ahold of the arm he had pinned, released her legs, spun her around, and before she could move a muscle, he had her pinned completely beneath him.

“Check mate,” he said.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware of their position.

She took in a shaky breath, annoyed at how easily he’d bested her (but she could worry about that later, even though she _knew_ he had been distracting her on purpose, wearing that black shirt) . . .

She suddenly had intense déjà vu of the last time they’d really sparred together . . . right before they’d shipped out on the Zephyr for the very first time. Then, she’d felt something. She just hadn’t been sure what it was.

A spark, maybe?

And now, she _knew_ what she felt.

So she grinned, yanked a leg out from under him, and flipped them both over, planting her arms on either side of his shoulders.

The air was knocked out from his lungs for a second, but he gasped. “I take it back.”

Last time they’d sparred and ended up like this, all those years ago, Daisy had thought (just for a second) about kissing him. But she had known better, then.

She didn’t know better now. And now, when she leaned down and closed the distance between them, it was familiar.

Sparks still shot through her body, and she almost sighed when he reached up to grip the base of her skull and pull her somehow even closer . . .

“Jeez, you guys. Is nothing sacred?”

Daisy nearly _launched_ herself four feet to the side, already raising her hands at the intruder, and out of the corner of her eye she watched Daniel sit up, his face completely beet-red.

Miles Beck slapped Parker on the arm. The pair stood casually in the doorway, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, and boxing gloves hanging on their arms.

“I’m glad you’re in love and everything,” MacAuley continued, “but you guys have no sense of privacy anymore.”

Sousa ran a hand across his face and took a few breaths. “Parker,” he admonished, the red already fading from his cheeks. “We really need to have a talk about how to talk to your superiors.”

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_February 9 th, 2021_

_._

Sousa’s bag landed with a _thunk_ on the loading bay. “I sure hope you know how to fly one of these, Mack.”

The mechanic just smiled and flicked a few switches above his head.

“He’s better at flying than you are,” Daisy said as she strode up the ramp. “Believe it or not.”

“Hey,” Daniel protested, staring at his partner with shock and hurt in his eyes.

Daisy grinned and patted his arm while Mack laughed from the pilot’s seat. Parker tripped and landed with a _crash_ on her way up the ramp, and Fitz yelled in protest from directly behind her.

“You sure we should take a quinjet?” Adler sighed, helping MacAuley to her feet. “What’s wrong with the Zephyr?”

“She’s being modified,” Sousa explained. He shared a quick grin with Fitz . . . and Daisy noticed their sly expressions.

“What?” she asked. “What kind of modifications?”

Daniel sent a smirk her way and focused on his duffel bag. “Modifications. You know.”

“I really don’t,” Daisy pressed.

No answer.

Fitz chuckled from the other end of the plane.

“Don’t push it, Johnson,” Adler said. “You don’t have the clearance to know.”

“I—” Daisy sputtered. “Oh no. We’re the same clearance level.” She gestured between herself and Sousa, who refused to wipe the conspiratorial grin off his smug face.

“Like he said, Tremors,” Mack called from the front of the plane. “You’ll find out when it’s time.”

Daisy’s jaw fell to the ground. “ _Mack knows?_ ” Her gaze flew to Parker, who didn’t move a single muscle . . . but her face was flushed red.

“Parker, too?” Daisy cried.

“I’m not saying anything,” MacAuley said quietly.

Glancing around the loading bay of the quinjet, seeing her friends’ guilty and laughter-filled faces, Daisy sighed. If they wanted to keep secrets, they would. They were spies, after all. She shook her head and pushed down another protest.

Simmons and Joey finally boarded the plane, and Mack lifted them out of the hangar and into the air, angling toward the huge expanse of cold blue.

Daisy looked to her side where Daniel sat, his eyes fixed on the sky. She knew he loved flying; adored being up in the air where there was nothing around them except miles upon miles of open, empty air. Being holed up in an office all day was not his style . . . and it definitely wasn’t hers either. She couldn’t wait to get out into the field again. Even just a month was too long to be stuck inside.

She reached over and clasped Daniel’s hand. His eyes flicked down, and he instantly closed his fingers over hers.

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_February 14 th, 2021_

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Director Coulson set down his pen, let out a sigh, and rested his elbows on the table. “Any other questions?”

Silence.

He smiled. “How about updates? How is everyone?”

Daniel had to laugh to himself. Coulson was the director of a major spy organization, and still he was interested in the agents’ personal lives.

The team had been in Washington, D.C. for a few days, going to meeting after meeting, attending a seminar or two, and Fitzsimmons even spoke at the SHIELD Academy. They were busy, that’s how they were, but they were alright. Just doing their jobs and loving every second.

Nods and murmurs of “fine” flitted around the table, and Coulson just smiled kindly. “Great,” he said and reached out a hand to turn of the giant screen behind him, that they had been using for their meeting.

But before he could press the button . . . A light flashed.

And a very familiar symbol appeared on the screen.

Daniel’s back went rigid.

His fists clenched.

Beside him, Daisy went completely pale.

And Daniel felt a chill run through the whole room.

On the screen was a dark, red-glowing Hydra symbol. And in front of it, words began to type themselves out: “CUT OFF ONE HEAD. TWO MORE TAKE ITS PLACE.”

No one breathed.

The letters wobbled . . . shifted . . .

And it was gone.

Coulson took in a breath, let his hands fall onto the table, and said, “Well. That’s not good.”

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.

.

“I really thought maybe we wiped them out,” Daisy murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around her body. The glee at being able to show Darren what-for back at the Hub and knowing that Gonzalez was dead had given her so much hope . . . But she supposed now it was a false hope.

“We didn’t know,” Daniel reminded her gently. He shook, but not from the cold. “We just have to dive back in now and figure this out.”

Daisy looked up and over. “A new mission, huh?”

“Well,” he said with a sigh. “A long one. But yeah. Up for it?”

“You kidding me?” Daisy grinned. “No leads, an ominous message, a killer psycho on the loose somewhere . . . Sounds peachy.”

Daniel wrinkled his eyebrows and gave her a pointed side-eye. “Wait, did you just . . . Peachy? Really?”

“Just . . . lightening the mood,” she said with a shrug and a smile.

The cold, sharp winter air drove its way through his light jacket, and he noticed Daisy shivering. Daniel opened his arms and she stepped gratefully toward him, suddenly unable to stop shaking.

“Sorry,” she laughed with chattering teeth. She wrapped her hands under his unzipped coat and around to his back.

“Don’t be,” he said.

And for a few moments, he almost forgot about Hydra. He almost forgot that he was even an agent of SHIELD, because all he knew was the biting wind and the stars above him and the woman in his arms . . .

“You know,” he said after a while. “I owe you a proper date.”

Daisy hummed in agreement. “We can manage dinner around a super secret spy mission, right?”

“I hope so,” he laughed, and propped his chin up on top of her head. It struck him that this was the first time he’d held her like this. Just . . . comfortably. Like a normal, domestic couple. Which they were not, but maybe he could trick himself into thinking it for a moment. They were unconventional in every sense of the word. And while he loved his life and loved his job, he realized . . . Maybe, when they weren’t constantly fighting for each other or trying to stop a crazy Nazi organization . . . Maybe they could consider . . .

He shook those thoughts out of his head.

It was _way_ too soon to think like that.

He felt Daisy sigh against his chest, and he wondered if she was as tired as he felt.

“About time to turn in?” he asked quietly, never wanting to leave.

“Not quite yet.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to make this moment last as long as possible, not knowing when they’d get a quiet evening together again . . . Even standing on the cold front lawn of a SHIELD facility in the winter with Daisy was better than tracking down Nazis. But he could stand to serve some justice to Hydra . . . as long as Daisy was with him.

Daniel stared up into the night sky, a few stars peeking through the haze of city lights.

“If we start down this path again . . .” he said quietly. “And something goes south . . . Promise me one thing.”

Daisy tilted her head slightly up. “What?”

“That you won’t leave again.”

She pulled only slightly away, and he suddenly felt the pang of the cold air between them. But her face tilted up, and the city lights lit up her smile. “Of course I won’t. You dork.”

And this time, when he kissed her, he really did forget about Hydra. And SHIELD. And everything in between.

It was only the two of them, two stars in the wide-open expanse of space, with the whole universe rooting for them.

If it was up to Daniel . . .

He could have stayed like this until the night was over.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! 
> 
> I hope you loved this story as much as I've loved writing it! And while it is the end of this fic, and I'll miss it a ton . . . it's not the end of this story! I have BIG plans for the sequel, which will probably be at least the same length as this fic. So subscribe or keep an eye out on my tumblr (@hecckyeah) for the first chapter of the sequel in the next 2 or 3 weeks! And I'll definitely be posting lots of one-shots and drabbles before then, to keep my writing going :) 
> 
> I'm rambling again! Lol  
> I love you all! Thank you for going on this journey with me! 
> 
> Cheers!!


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